


Patriotic Nitwits, Devious Carnies, and Other Complications of a New York Life

by Pohadka



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky is not a fan of Captain America at all, Canon-Typical Violence, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, History Nerd Bucky Barnes, I hate you trope, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, shrunky clunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pohadka/pseuds/Pohadka
Summary: Bucky Barnes is not a fan of Captain America. Not one bit.  There's an old family grudge to carry and Bucky does it spectacularly.  Until he finally has a reason not to.[This was originally going to be part of the ShrunkyClunks Bang, but life happened in a big way. Finally done though!]





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> My love, as always, to Floriana, FoolishQuestions, and ChibiSquirt too. You guys kept cheering for me even when I started digging my heels in on this one. 
> 
> One quick note: I played fast and loose with the Barnes family. Mainly, I made Rebecca's family name Proctor, and her married name Barnes so I could have the modern Bucky Barnes name make sense. IE: Steve would have known her as Rebecca Proctor. Never Barnes.

Bucky was in the middle of looking over the day’s new purchases when it happened. The ground shook, sirens went off, and things started to go boom. He grabbed exactly three things: his handmade rebreather to pull on, his personal Glock he kept legally licensed, and his phone to start texting family. He was alone in the shop today, and now he was glad of it.

Since there was no one else in the antique shop, he only felt a slight tinge of guilt of going to the front windows to look out instead of to the vault in the back. Bucky needed to see. That had been his job with the Rangers in Afghanistan and Iraq, and it still ran deep in his civilian life, even after all this time. If it hadn’t involved five flights of stairs in an enclosed stairwell, he would’ve headed to the roof. But too late for that, the fight was already here. 

A giant plume of dust flew down the street, making him glad he’s got his respirator on. He’ll take the Darth Vader jokes over the emergency room visit this time, happily. He wedged himself into the corner shaded by the antique curio cabinet they never could get rid of and looked across the street at the CVS for the reflection.

Down the cross street, he could see Iron Man flying in to punch something in the face. It’s big and muddy brown and it’s grinding a hole in the street. Great, it’s gonna take months while they fix that mess. Behind the grinder, he can see the bounding giant green blob that’s the Hulk rise up to smash into the middle of it, squashing it flat. Arrows fly around at an angle that he thinks maybe come from his roof or the roof next to his. Neat. He woulda climbed up into Hawkeye’s nest if he had followed his impulse. 

Best of all, there was no red, white, and blue menace in sight, so other than the specter of his army gifted emphysema and COPD acting up for the next six months, he got to sit back and enjoy this one. 

Or not. After the Hulk squashed the grinder, it began to separate into smaller fighters, ones that took to the air. Bucky grumbled, but turned to drop the security grates to keep the damage to just broken glass. Next step was to move the vases and smaller things from the windows. If these sort of things kept happening, he was gonna suggest interior shelves visible from the windows for their displays. Insurance only paid for so much after this bullshit, and you had to file too much paperwork for SI reimbursement. Bucky had lost his best mask the day that the Chitauri had hit and SI still hadn’t come through on that one.

Once he’d moved what he could, he flipped the Closed sign on and locked up the front. He’d watch the security feed in the back and work on his next generation of respirator to see if he could come up with a better idea. 

This far in the back, he felt safe enough to leave the loading bay door open. The sound of the battle was muffled, but he could still keep track of it. His PTSD was oddly specific to smells, something else the respirators helped with, so the thumps and the occasional whine of Iron Man’s repulsers overhead didn’t elicit more than the occasional grumble. 

Thankfully nothing showed up on the security cameras up front. Other than the amusing view of the occasional New Yorker dodging the battle to get to the CVS for their daily fix of whatever they needed. Most jaded people in the world and Bucky loved every single one of them for it. That’s why Brooklyn was home. 

A single whining engine outside changed pitch, getting louder instead of going past. Bucky tensed, putting away the magnifying glass and the tweezers he’d been using to connect a loose wire in favor of his Glock. The pitched changed again, intensifying right before a loud thump sounded outside the dock. 

Bucky immediately went into battle mode. His shoulder was pressed against the wall, Glock at the ready with the safety off, finger over the trigger housing. Whatever it was outside, it was in the trash bin they shared with the bakery and the tanning salon on the street behind them. 

He shifted to the opposite side, covering the door to look around, seeing no other movement other than the dumpster rocking on its own. The lid flew up and one of the bots rose up out of it, focused on whatever it was below it. It had a head, housing a computerized brain, it looked like. A fore arm raised, the point of the ‘hand’ whirring to come together in a drill, pointed to whatever it was beneath it, preparing to stab downward. 

Bucky put four bullets through the computer brain without thinking.

Nothing else moved after the head disintegrated. Even the dumpster quit moving. Then it moaned softly.

Bucky took two cautious steps out and looked upward, but nothing else was in sight. The next three steps to the side of the dumpster were equally unseen, so he pushed open the side grate slowly. 

Hawkeye was grunting softly as he tried to push the bot thing off of him, freezing as he looked up at Bucky. “Do you come as a friend, friend?” 

Bucky snorted softly, then flicked the safety back on before holstering the Glock. “Since I’m the one who shot the thing, you better hope so.” His voice came out distorted through the respirator, he knew. 

Hawkeye eyeballed it a little, then shrugged. “Thanks. I owe you one, then. Uhm.. Wanna make it two I owe you? It’s gone through my leg.” He looked down, pointing as well, and Bucky could see the darker stain on the black tactical pants the guy wore. 

“Yeah, I got something for that. Hold on a second.” He turned and went back in, grabbing the crowbar he used to unbox furniture and the first aid kit. After a second, he also grabbed the wheeled moving platform as well before heading out to the dumpster again. He made sure he knew where everything was before he slid into the dumpster with Hawkeye. “I gotta admit, this ain’t gonna feel good.” 

“Yeah, you’d be surprised what I’m used to.” Hawkeye grunted, sighing as he took the first aid kit. “Clint Barton, by the way.” 

Bucky snorted, then turned to hold out his hand. “Bucky Barnes.” 

“Nice ta meecha Bucky.” Clint shook his hand, then held on tighter as he shifted his weight, grunting as the weight of the bot moved with him. “Well, at least he’s not pinning me to the can.” 

“That’s good to know. Okay. Hold on.” Bucky inspected the leg of the bot, then looked at Clint before wedging his crowbar into a likely spot. He waited until the archer nodded, then put his weight into pushing. 

The guy wasn’t lying when he said he was used to this. He barely made more than a loud whine when the spiky leg came out of the meat of his thigh. Blood gushed forward, which Bucky immediately went to work at stopping with a tourniquet. 

“Oh fuck, that sucked,” Clint hissed once that was done. “Okay, next step, yeah?” 

“Getting you outta here. You got medlift or something like that?” Bucky asked, shifting to climb out. The grate was wide enough for Clint’s shoulders to fit through, at least. 

“Yeah, I got a ride coming. It just smells in here,” Clint replied. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Bucky joked lightly, tapping his respirator. He braced himself for the lift, taking Clint’s weight first before pulling.

“Har har aaaaahhhh shiiit,” Clint replied to the bad joke. “Funny guy. I hate you already.” 

“Aww now. I haven’t even gotten started yet!” Bucky paused, waiting for Clint to nod before moving again, this time getting his hips through the grate, not stopping until he’d gotten him on the moving platform. 

“Yeah?” The archer stretched out for a minute, panting hard. “What material you think you got, Darth Vader?” 

“Well, could start off unoriginal like you, I’m sure.” Bucky popped the lid of the alcohol bottle and poured it liberally on the wound, smirking at the screech it caused. “But I have to give props, sniper to sniper, for the precision you bring, even with a bow and arrow.” 

“Hey don’t… aaghh.. Knock it.. Fuuuck.. Until you try it?” Clint said, panting between words. His hands were clenching the edges of the platform, the black gloves hiding the knuckles that had to be as white as his face. 

“I’m sure. I prefer rifles, that’s all. You got lucky, looks like it just took out muscle, no arteries. So as long as they sew this up pretty soon, you’ll be fine.” Bucky started wrapping up the wound as best as he could, wishing he could show his smile to Clint. The guy was a little bit of all right, really. 

“Maybe some day we can go hang out at the range or something. When I’m not passing out from blood loss.” Clint gave a funny little laugh, then groaned as he went limp.

“Yeah maybe, funny man. Any idea when your ride gets here?” Bucky reached up with a couple bloody fingers to check for a pulse. He didn’t get an answer, but the pulse was strong. “Hang in there.” 

He debated for a minute on moving him inside, or out front, but he could still hear the battle raging. For a second he twiddled his thumbs, then he wiped his hands off carefully before checking Clint for a phone. The only thing communications related that he found were the sleek hearing aids behind each ear which may or may not have been modified to include a wireless ear system, but Bucky couldn’t tell. The guy didn’t even have a card that said “if lost, please call this number.” Lack of foresight on someone’s part. 

Bucky did scout the area a little and found the tricked out bow that had to belong to the archer, and put it down beside him in case he woke up again. It had always reassured him when he’d woken up after injury to have his favorite rifle nearby. Especially in the field. 

One more round of checks on Clint, the building, and the end of the alleys killed a few more minutes. Bucky debated again on trying to find another way to contact the Avengers or hell, call 911 and make them figure out how to deliver Clint. He was on the verge of doing that when he heard a souped up military engine turn down the alleyway. 

Bucky eased the Glock from the holster and turned to watch the black SUV creep down the alley towards him. There was no identifying labels on it or tags, which just screamed private detail to him. He was 8 years out of the military with a down Avenger behind him. Could he take on a fight like this? Would he take on a fight like this now? 

The SUV pulled to a stop about ten feet away and the door opened. A giant in a blue uniform unfolded and answered the question for him. Ugh. That one. Bucky just barely kept from rolling his eyes and reholstered his Glock, relaxing his stance. “Took you long enough. He’s not bleeding out but he does need immediate medical attention. Did he not make that clear to you?” 

Captain America paused, blinking a little in shock as he raised his chin. “Huh?” was the intelligent response.

“Hawkeye. He said he called to you guys that he needed medical attention. He’s got a through and through on his thigh. Passed out about five minutes ago from blood loss. No damage to the artery but he needs surgery. You gonna get that for him or you got someone else I can call?” Bucky said, letting the irritation bleed into his voice. The respirator distorted it a little, but the point got through. 

The passenger side door opened and a woman darted around to head to Clint’s side. The red hair meant she was possibly the Black Widow. Finally someone with brains. Bucky ignored Captain Idiot and turned to join her beside Clint. 

“The bot thing took him off the roof and they landed in that dumpster. I had to lift it off of him and pull him out.” 

“Did you do this wrap job? Looks good.” Her clever fingers were checking the wound and Clint’s vitals. “He’s an idiot. All he said was ‘ow’ and triggered his locater beacon.” 

Bucky snorted and shook his head at that. “I don’t think he’s in danger but he does need surgery. So he’s your idiot now.” 

“Always has been,” the Widow said, sitting back on her heels to look at him. “And you are?” 

“Bucky Barnes. I was in my work shop when he came down, heard the commotion.” He turned and pointed to the open dock door. 

“Brave of you to come check,” she said, sharp eyes sparkling as she took in the scene. Then she turned to look at the dead bot. “Huh. We’ll send someone over to pick that up and dispose of it.” 

“Fine by me. I hate scavengers who come for this stuff.” Bucky shrugged, then turned back to Clint, gently pulling up an eyelid. “Hey. You. Idiot. Stop being stupid and look after yourself, huh?”

“Lost battle there, sorry Barnes.” Widow’s voice was soft, but amused. “Hey Steve, help me roll this over to the truck.” 

Bucky stepped back as Captain Nitwit came to do as she said and watched as they coordinated moving Clint up into the back of the SUV. She got up with him, popping open a few things to pull out medical supplies to start an IV the first chance she got.

Big Red White and Blue was left with bringing the platform back, sheepishly fidgeting. “Thanks, for taking care of Clint for us,” he said, holding out a costumed mitt.

“Yeah, no problem,” Bucky said, crossing his arms without shaking the offered hand. “You better get going. He really needs to get into surgery, fast.” 

“Yeah, uh… Thanks again.” Rogers blinked, frowning as he headed back to the SUV. He looked back once at Bucky as they pulled out, still frowning in confusion.

“Yeah, you just keep wondering pal,” Bucky told the retreating SUV. “Grandma told me what an ungrateful asshole you really are. Too bad your team’s gotta work with you.” He sighed, then picked up the first aid kit and took everything back inside. “Wonder if I get free Hawkeye merchandise from this though? That’d be cool!” 

#

In the back of the SUV, Clint Barton peered up at Natasha Romanoff with one eye, quirking an eyebrow with a half smile.

She glared back at him and thumped him squarely on the bridge of his nose with a finger, the other hand over his mouth to keep his howl of protest silent. 

In the driver’s seat, Steve Rogers was mumbling the name of the business, Proctor-Barnes Antiques and Historical Research.


	2. two

Two weeks later, things were finally calming down again. At least, the dust from the road repairs were not as obnoxious, thanks to the slow spring rain currently drenching the city for the past two days. Bucky had been able to leave the respirator off for twenty four hours, even when venturing outside for a quick trip around the corner to Josie’s bakery for a loaf of rich dark rye bread.

It was waiting for him upstairs, but in the meantime, he was dawdling over a pair of letters supposedly written by Steve Rogers. They’d been brought in by a pair of fortune seekers suckered by a con man. Bucky had seen it several times already since the return of Captain America. 

Up front, the bell rang as someone slipped in the door. A single man, wearing a leather jacket and a ball cap against the rain, leaning on a crutch. “Be with you in a minute,” he called out, then turned back to the couple in front of him. “I’m sorry, but these are forgeries. Good ones, but the paper quality is too good and the penmanship is not Steven Rogers from that era. You said that these are a copy of what they were trying to sell you?” 

“Yes. Are you really sure?” The woman asked. Her shoulders were sloping downward in despair and she leaned into her husband. “We were going to take these to Sothesby’s. They said they were real!”

“Well, I’m glad you took a copy before paying the full price. Because this is definitely not real. Here, let me show you.” Bucky pulled out a single sheet, a copy of a letter he knew to be from the suggested era and lined them up side by side. The other patron was wandering around slowly, taking their time to look around.

After he pointed out the differences, the man asked, “How do you know that’s the real deal? It could be the fake!” 

“Because my grandmother had the original in her possession most of her life. She grew up in this very building. Rogers grew up down the street. She’d known him as a kid and had seen thousands of examples through her life. I trust her word before anyone else’s.” Bucky smiled, but the warmth had leeched out of him a little. 

The guy backed up a bit, and must have made some signal to the woman. She nodded, gathering up the papers she’d pulled out for him to look at. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes. We appreciate your time.”

“You’re welcome. What I’d suggest is going to the police next. These people, they’re con men. They should be prosecuted, really. It’s up to you if you want to press charges, but that’s what I would do.” Bucky put the copy of his grandmother’s letter away, then locked the desk before stepping around to see them out. 

His other patron was waiting patiently by the ancient weapons section. Once he saw who it was, Bucky was very amused by that. “Hey, you did survive. Good to see you again.” 

“I did. Although Natasha said I was very rude about passing out on you. Came by to give you my thanks.” Clint held out his hand again to give him a warm handshake. 

“Well, I think you kinda had your reasons.” Bucky smiled warmly, squeezing the hand he was given. “See anything old that you like? I don’t have any arrows, sorry.” 

“Ahh, it’s all good. I’m just happy I get to see your face this time. I was afraid I’d have to come up with new Vader jokes.” Clint winked and Bucky found himself actually laughing.

“Oh, please don’t. Be more original, c’mon!” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I’m trying to set a fashion trend out there, donchya know?” 

“Ahh, see? I told Natasha there was a reason!” Clint shifted on his crutch, smiling easily. “Still, you do clean up nice without it, so that ain’t it.” 

“Nah. Lung rot from the desert.” Bucky shrugged, then leaned against the wall. “The one out of six who got it, lucky me. Probably ‘cause I got to cycle through both Iraq and Afghanistan.” 

“Aww crap, that does suck. And here we went, knocking dust and all sorts of shit up into the air around you. I’m sorry.” All the humor drained out of the archer, but he didn’t deflate like a lot of people did. “At least the rain helps, if you’ve got the mask off?” 

Bucky nodded, then smiled. “It does. Although if you got any pull with the city to get the street fixed any faster…” he smirked as he let the sentence hang.

“Well, I can see what Stark can do but dude, you’re probably on your own there, sorry.” Clint shrugged, then pulled a look he’d seen on many a private pulling a fast one on a superior. ‘I’m just a dumb grunt. Which end of my rifle do I use again?’

Bucky cracked up hard, holding onto his ribs as he laughed. “Oh fuck, yeah you served. Jesus, Barton. Bet they buy that face every time, don’t they?” 

“Everyone but Tasha!” He was grinning again, shifting on the crutch as if he was using it as a prop. “C’mon, lemme buy you a beer, I owe you that much.” 

Bucky straightened up and rubbed at his eyes, tears of laughter leaking out the corners. “And Hawkeye merch. I want merch.” 

“You want a licensed bow and quiver?” Clint turned towards the door, reaching to flip the sign to close for him.

“Fuck no. I want a big purple hoodie, asshole,” Bucky said, turning to let down the security grates.

#

Barton had a decent singing voice. It’s just too bad he only knew three or four lines out of a song. And not even sequential lines at that. “Dammit Barton, you owe me more than a fucking hoodie now,” Bucky muttered, adjusting his hold on the archer and shifting the drunk man against his side. 

The beer had been followed by several more while they talked. And a few shots of the harder stuff when they delved into the sniper talk. 

The result was a loosey goosey, happy go lucky drunk. Bucky had a suspicion someone was still on painkillers. “Do you go ‘Ow’ and push a button again this time to get a ride?” 

Clint giggled and dug into his coat, pulling out a phone. The song changed and then Clint was shouting “Me lo paro! El taxi!” on repetition. 

After the third time, a girl across the street squealed and screamed back, “Cho cho cho fe para el taxi!” 

Bucky just groaned louder as Clint and the girl started singing to each other across the four lanes of traffic. It took a couple minutes, but he got the phone away from him and pocketed before it went sliding away into a storm drain or something.

They turned the corner and the girl didn’t follow. The singing ended and Bucky sighed softly. “Dude, how did I end up with you in my life, huh?”

“You shot a bot in the head for me. That means we’re best friends for EVAR!” Clint grinned, then sloppily kissed Bucky on the cheek.

He rolled his eyes and shoved Clint’s face away. “Mouth to yourself until you sober up, buddy. And maybe I don’t do that again.”

“Aww, Bucky. But even Natasha says you’re pretty.” Clint pouted. He actually pouted.

“Dude, you’re five when you’re drunk.” This time Bucky did roll his eyes, but they were back at the shop anyways. He propped Clint up next to the door to unlock it and turn off the security system. “C’mon. I’ll call your taxi service and get you some water. Just don’t puke on anything. I hate restoring stuff twice.” 

Clint saluted sloppily, then slid onto the chair Bucky directed him to. He sighed, then pulled out the phone. The screen was locked, of course. “Clint. Voice, thumb, or retinal?” He held the phone in front of the archer, waiting patiently. 

He rolled around, blinked twice and leaned in to peer at the phone. “Jarvis?” 

“Yes, Agent Barton?” It replied. Wow, now that was something. 

“I needa ride. Could send someone ta get me?” 

“Certainly. Agent Romanoff isn’t available. She said to remind you to behave yourself.”

“Aww no Jarvis. I did, I swear! Tell her!” Clint was frowning again. Bucky was trying his hardest not to grind the palm of his hand into his eye socket.

“I will let her know you tried,” the phone replied. The British voice was gently sarcastic, somehow. 

“Thanks Jarvis. You’re the BEST!” There was a distinct click and Clint leaned back in the chair, grinning. Bucky just shook his head and tucked the phone back into Clint’s inner pocket. 

“You have an insane life, you know that?” 

“Yeah. Hey, you got any cookies?” Clint looked up, blinking and smiling.

This time, Bucky did roll his eyes. “Only if you swear to me that you will not move!”

Clint held up his fingers in the boyscout salute, with the wrong hand. Bucky groaned and headed upstairs anyways.

#

Twenty minutes later, they were halfway through the second package of Oreos and a long winding discussion of wind variances of bullets vs arrows when a suspiciously familiar SUV pulled up outside. Thankfully, the big dumb blonde was wearing street clothes instead of the cartoon outfit, but it was still Captain Idiot. Bucky groaned, then poked at Clint. “Why did it have to be him, huh?” 

“What? Steve’s a nice guy!” 

“Says you,” Bucky grumbled, getting up to unlock the door again. “C’mon, you’re going to have a nasty hang over tomorrow. I don’t envy you.” 

“Why you gotta grudge against Cap anyways?” Clint was frowning as he tried to balance his crutch and hang onto the Oreos at the same time. 

“Ask me when you’re sober,” Bucky replied before opening the door, glaring up at the surprised face, fist poised to knock. “Hey. Thanks for coming to pick him up again.” 

“Thanks for watching out for him. He gets lonely when Natasha’s not in town,” Rogers said, his tone a little mournful. 

“Next time, remember my hoodie, okay Barton?” Bucky unwound enough to smile for his friend. And he admitted, he wouldn’t mind calling Clint that. He’d had fun, even with the idiot swinging off his neck half the walk home. 

“You got it, Buck.” Before he could duck, Clint had scored another kiss on his cheek. The archer cackled the rest of the way out the door to the SUV, clutching his stolen cookies to his chest while swinging deftly around on the crutch. 

Bucky just shook his head and laughed. Then Captain Idiot took a breath to say something, a hopeful look on his face. 

“Yeah, no. Good night.” He knew he was rude, but he turned to shut the door before Rogers could even start to say his thought, much less finish it, throwing the lock and turning on the security. 

As he flicked off the lights, he could clearly hear Clint say “Wow, Steve, what the hell did you do to piss him off?” 

Just as clearly, he could hear the wounded, “I don’t know.” 

Figures, Bucky thought as he headed upstairs to his apartment. Being frozen for so long had probably addled his memory, if the serum didn’t. Wasn’t up to him to help the Patriotic Nitwit figure it out though. He was on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Clint is butchering is Taxi, by Pitbull


	3. Three

Clint yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen area the next morning, following the scent of coffee. It was after ten, so he didn’t really expect anyone to be around. Still, it was nice when Natasha shoved a full mug of steaming magic goodness into his hands when he stopped next to the machine. “Mmmm-ankoo.” 

It wasn’t until most of the first cup was gone and the caffeine had started fueling the synapses in his brain that he registered the absolute silence of the four other people in the room. Steve sat at the table staring at the plate in front of him, mostly uneaten. That was more frightening than Tony Stark not talking for the time it took for Clint to drink a full cup of coffee. He was used to Natasha staring at him and well, Banner staring was better than Banner being upset so he’d take it. “What did I do now?” 

Tasha raised one slender finger and pointed to the back of Steve’s head. Clint carefully put down his cup before signing, “I did not do that! I’m trying to fix that!”

“Badly,” Tasha replied.

“Mm?” Steve said, blinking and turning around. “Oh, hi Clint. How’s your head?” 

“About to hurt worse. Natasha said I was bad. I behaved, didn’t I?” He pouted at Steve, hoping it would trigger some emotion.

“Oh. He was okay, yeah. I think I’ll go downstairs though.” He stood up and cleared his plate into the sink, nodding to each of them before heading to the stairs. At least that was normal.

The moment the door closed, Stark spoke first. “Jarvis, keep track of Capsicle for me, will you?”

“Certainly, Sir.”

“What did you do, Clint?” Natasha rounded in on him, dangerously close. 

“Yeah, Clint. Even I haven’t broken Cap like that,” Tony said, leaning in on the other side. Bruce slid in across from him, arms folded over his chest and one eyebrow lifted as he leaned against the back of the big comfy sofa Clint had been planning to sleep in all day.

“Aw, guys.” Clint slumped down, his shoulders deflating. He cradled the coffee cup to his chest, sighing deeply. “I was trying to fix things, I swear. You know who that guy was? The guy at the antique store?”

“No,” Natasha said, pulling back to study him curiously. Her brow furrowed together and he couldn’t help but cringe under her knowing stare. “Tell us.” 

“He’s the grandson of Rebecca Proctor,” Clint blurted.

All three groaned and turned away from him. Natasha turned back almost instantly and slapped him across the back of the skull. Clint yelped and danced away but that didn’t save him.

“Did you think to tell him that?” Tony was turning back on him, finger poking him in the shoulder. Clint tried to duck away from him but that just put him back in close range to Natasha. 

“No, of course not! That would just make him even more super sad face!” Clint ducked Natasha’s next jab, slipping past her into the open floor space. “I thought if I could get them to meet, they would talk and maybe hit it off and Cap wouldn’t be so fucking lonely. I didn’t know Barnes had a grudge the size of Rhode Island! I swear!” 

“Wait, grudge?” Tony asked, pausing in his advance. Natasha didn’t, but at least the odds weren’t stacked so high against him this time. 

“Yeah, it’s like he hates Cap. Pretty much admitted that to me last night when I was pretending to be drunk. Thanks for being scarce so’s Steve would be my pick up man, by the way.” Clint swatted at Tasha again, then gave up and let her into his side, rolling with her so he could drop both of them into the corner of the couch, half landing on her to keep her still. “Aww coffee.” Part of what was left in his cup splashed across his bandaged thigh as punishment for the move. 

“I mean, who hates Cap?” Bruce said, bringing the coffee pot to fill his cup back up.

“Bless you. My favorite.” Clint grinned, wiggling to stay on top of Tasha even as he took a sip. 

“Evidently Barnes does. Was Cap the love ‘em and leave ‘em kind back in the 40’s? Jarvis, find out what you can about Rebecca Proctor!” Tony yelled, holding out his cup to Bruce too.

“I doubt he was,” Bruce said. “He’s just not that kind of guy.” He shrugged and turned to the screen where Jarvis had information starting to collate into easy to read columns.

Natasha finally pushed Clint far enough to wiggle out from under him and moved over to read the screen. “Yeah, he definitely would not do that. When has Steve ever done something you would think a normal person would do? Something even slightly morally ambiguous?” She paused, leaning over to read something else, not even looking back. “You know, something like Clint or Tony?”

Clint yelled “Hey!” at the same time Tony yelled “wait a minute,” while Bruce just laughed.

Jarvis made a throat clearing noise and began. A photo of a striking brunet woman, chin lifted eerily like Steve’s when he got set on something, flashed up onto the conference screen. “Rebecca Proctor-Barnes. Born March 18, 1920, the oldest of three girls. Grew up down the street from Steve Rogers. According to most biographers, they were in the same grade in middle school when Rogers was held back one year due to poor health and Proctor was pushed forward a year. After that, historians agree that they remained close friends until Rogers signed up for Project Rebirth. That’s where the connection does get fuzzy. There are some letters in historical reference, but not many.”

“Any explanation why?” Bruce asked. He had stepped up close to Natasha reading the screen as well.

“Yeah, bet my dad has something to do with that,” Tony said. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes pinched closed.

“He wasn’t the reason for it, but he knew about the situation, I’m sure. But only laterally. The SSR as a whole, had decided to keep Captain Rogers’ identity a secret. From Director Carter’s personal files, I did find several letters transcribed to Miss Proctor but never sent. The gist of the letters seem to indicate Director Carter had some regrets at keeping Captain Rogers from contacting Miss Proctor before he went missing in the Atlantic.” 

“Does it say if they were sweethearts?” Clint found himself asking. “Cause if I was setting him up with someone who might’ve been his own grandson at some point...” He paused at that, shuddering and making a gacking noise.

“Thankfully, the records do not say. Miss Proctor met Andrew Barnes in 1945 and married two years later. They had four children of their own and later purchased the building where the antique store is located in the mid-sixties.” 

“About when the Project Rebirth declassified Steve’s identity,” Natasha guessed.

A new set of dates started in a new column to the side of the original information. “It seems that you are correct, agent Romanoff. A set of letters and drawings can be traced back to Mrs. Proctor-Barnes several months before the building was purchased. This was roughly a year after Captain Rogers identity was revealed and a short biography was released to the public.”A photograph of the biography appeared below the set of dates. 

Jarvis was also running through all the known drawings attributed to Steve. Of all the profiles of people before the war, he was pulling the ones of women and lining them up next to photographs of six women in particular. One face, Clint was very familiar with. Sarah Rogers, Steve’s mother. There was another woman about the same age. Jarvis labeled about one with the name Winnifred Proctor. A couple of drawings matched up to her. Director Carter’s photo flashed up, and several more photos lined up with her. A double handful went to the photo listed as Rebecca. Several more went to the photographs listed as Grace and Hope Proctor.

“Jarvis,” Tony said, “I think you just solved one of the riddles in the legend of Steven Rogers.” His voice was slow but amused as he walked over to look through the information that Jarvis had put up. At odds with his voice, his shoulders were tight and bunched as he clutched the coffee cup with one hand.

“Thank you, Sir. But I fear it doesn’t really help with the current situation.”

“Maybe it does,” Bruce said, pulling off his glasses to look at Natasha. “If this Barnes guy is mad at Steve, maybe it’s cause of what happened back then?” 

“That’s the theory I’m going with,” Tony said, shrugging a little. “Still doesn’t tell me how to fix it.”

“You don’t.” A hard voice said behind them.

As one, they cringed and turned. Even Tony didn’t stop to yell at Jarvis for not warning them when they turned to look at Steve standing in the stairwell door. “If they want nothing to do with me, I get it. It’s not up to you to fix. It’s up to me.” 

“Yeah, but Steve,” Clint tried, standing up. The storm in the hard blue eyes made him pause. Made him rethink the next step.

“No, Clint. It’s not up to us. I appreciate you trying. But I get it now.” Steve looked past them at the screen, blinking once and taking a deep breath. “I did something stupid and now it’s for me to live with it.” He looked at each of them. Clint felt like he was being drilled through again a force intent on bending his will to another’s way, almost as if Steve was a benevolent Loki. He blinked, then Steve was gone.

“Ow.” 

“Yeah, ow,” Natasha echoed. 

“That felt like Loki,” He muttered, turning to face her. 

“No, Clint,” she said, reaching for him.

“I’m pretty sure that was a big fuck no, Twinkle Toes,” Tony added.

Clint just grinned and headed towards the elevator. “If it felt like Loki, then I’m doing the fucking opposite.” 

“Yeah, like that’s going to work out well,” he heard Bruce mutter as Jarvis closed the elevator door. No faith, none of them!


	4. Four

The shop was empty when Steve arrived. The chime rang above the door when he pushed it open and he heard a young woman’s voice call out from the back, “just a moment!”

“Okay,” he said in return. He slipped his hands into his pockets and took the time to wander through the shop. Some of the furniture looked very familiar and made them feel like he could have stepped back in time. Almost, back home. Some of it was definitely older than what he remembered, but not by much. Maybe turn-of-the-century. He rather thought his mother might have liked several of them.

Steve was looking at a roll top desk when a short, no-nonsense looking, brunette woman who vaguely resembled Bucky came around the corner. She wore heels and a long flowing dress and what he thought Natasha might tell him were 60s style glasses. “Can I help you?”

“Hi, I was hoping to see Mr. Barnes here today.” Steve managed the words without stuttering, but he did rub the back of his neck and he knew he was blushing. More things that Natasha had told him were dead giveaways of how he felt.

“Oh, I’m sorry. My brother’s sick. He’s taking the week off, actually. Is this something I could help you out with? We both do the research here.” She held out her hand. “My name is Dr. Sarah Barnes. I’m the other half of this establishment.”

Steve took her hand, feeling a little stunned. “I hope he’s not too sick. I, uh, I mean, my name is Steven Rogers. It’s nice to meet you.” He felt himself cringing a little, waiting for her reaction.

She did freeze, but shook his hand another half second before letting go. “Oh, he did mention that you showed up. Quite vocally, actually.” She laughed softly, giving him a knowing look.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanted to see him about.” Steve shoved both of his hands into his pockets again, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “I’m guessing that uh, reaction came from Rebecca directly, huh?”

“We both got lecture and verse from her,” Sarah said, a small twist to the corner of her mouth. She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her weight to her right foot. The tactical part of his brain went on the defensive at that, making him shift back on his heels. “He was pretty upset about you showing up twice already. I’m not sure I’m going to tell him about you coming here looking for him until he’s better.” 

“Is it his,” Steve paused, circling a finger around his face, not sure what word to search for.

“His respiratory response, yeah. He doesn’t do so good around pollutants anymore and yesterday someone brought in an armoire that hadn’t been cleaned out in decades. He caught a face full before we knew it,” Sarah said, her voice going soft. 

Steve winced, rubbing at his chest. “Asthma attack? I always hated those.” 

“Kinda like that, yeah.” Sarah narrowed her eyes at him, then cocked her head. “What’s your intention towards my brother, Mr. Rogers?” 

Steve flinched, taking a step back. “I.. I wanted to apologize, for whatever it was that I did to make him mad. I think, I might’ve found out recently what it was. Rather, what I did to your grandmother that made everyone angry. Guess I kinda can’t apologize. It’s complicated, isn’t it?” 

“Oh you don’t even know the half of it yet,” Sarah said, laughing softly. She shook her head, then stepped forward to pat his bicep. “Let me give you my business card. Email me next week and I’ll see what I can do about setting up a detente session.” She led him back to a desk on the opposite side of the shop, covered in books and papers. “See, I’ve actually read all the unclassified SSR files, the ones that my brother refuses to look at. And I can read between the lines.” She paused, holding out a card to him, her smile soft and understanding. “I did my dissertation on Director Carter, you know, at NYU. I even got to interview her longtime secretary.” 

Steve melted almost immediately. “You did? Is it something I can read? Did you,” He coughed, taking the card and reeling himself in when she started to laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m still trying to figure out etiquette in this century.” 

“It’s okay. And yeah, when you email me, I’ll send you a link to where you can find it. It’s really dry reading though.” Sarah smiled. 

Steve held up the card in a salute, then slipped it into the inner pocket of his coat. “I’ll email. And thank you, Dr. Barnes. Any help you can give me, I will appreciate it. I…” He paused, the words he wanted to say getting stuck in his throat.

“I know. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers. You’re not half the nitwit my brother made you out to be. Not at all.” 

Steve groaned, dropping his head to cover his face with his hand. “Oh, ow. Okay. That explains a lot.” 

Sarah laughed and came back around the desk, taking his elbow to walk him to the door. “Relax Steve, it’s just Bucky being an idiot and projecting it onto you. He does that.” 

“Thank you. No really, you’re being very kind when you’ve every reason not to be.” Steve paused, chewing his lip. “I do want to make things right, if I can.” 

“Just give my brother time. He’ll figure it out. Now go save the world again or something.” Sarah smiled and stepped back, waving as he went out the door. 

Steve found his shoulders to be a fraction lighter, as he made his way back to the tower. 

#

Bucky grumbled behind his mask as he made his way towards the door. He’d been cooped up in his apartment for two days now, ever since that armoire had spit in his face. His chest still ached from the coughing fit. It frustrated him greatly, since it meant he had to stay in his clean room while he’d recovered, reading on a tablet instead of the heavy research texts he’d just gotten his hands on. 18th century New York was a fun time, and he was in the middle of a paper he’d pitched to the Atlantic. He needed to finish, and soon. Deadlines were ugly. 

Whoever it was knocked again, and louder. “Yeah yeah yeah, bite me.” Bucky grumbled as he finally opened the door. He was only a little surprised to see Barton standing there, a pizza box in one hand and a large Stark Industries bag in the other. “Duuuude. This counts as stalking.” 

“Only ‘cause you live above your store. Pizza? It’s Paulie Gee’s and I know you’re hipster enough to love them.” Barton grinned, cracking the top of the pizza box for a view. The respirator didn’t let him smell anything, but he could feel the heat coming off the pie.

“Damn Barton. Okay, get in here. But you gotta leave your boots and jacket at the door, yeah? It’s been a rough week.” Bucky stepped back and pointed towards the rack by the door. 

“Sure, no worries. Here, take the pie.” Barton frowned but followed orders, shifting the bag in his hands as he pulled off his coat. “Didn’t think you’d have to wear that thing around the house too.” 

“I do when it’s windy out. I can’t seal up everything tight enough to block out the pollen.” He’d turned his back on Barton and headed for the kitchen. “I got beer, or would you prefer soda or water?” 

“Beer, always,” the archer said, following him quietly, the stuffed bag banging his calves. “I woulda called, but I don’t have your number and there’s only so much Jarvis would let me do.” 

“Jarvis, that the name you gave your phone?” Bucky grinned, holding out a cold bottle to Clint.

“Nah, Jarvis is Tony Stark’s AI. He runs the tower and the phones and everything.” He settled down onto a stool at the breakfast nook before cracking the bottle open. “Evidently, one of his jobs is to keep me from misbehaving, but that’s too much work even for an all knowing AI.” He winked at Bucky before taking a long sip, sighing at the end. “Oh, that’s good.” 

Bucky laughed, shaking his head a little. “What’s in the bag, trouble maker?” 

“Right! So you asked for merch for having to put up with me! I got you merch!” Clint grinned wide, looking too much like a kid at Christmas as he pulled hoodies out of the bag. The first one, of course, was the big purple Hawkeye hoodie he’d asked for, followed by a Black Widow, an Iron Man, a Hulk, and a Thor. Interestingly, no Captain Idiot. Barton was smarter than one might’ve guessed.

“Huh, so five out of the six. Almost a complete set. Thanks.” Bucky gave him a little salute, since the mask kept his smile hidden a little too thoroughly. 

“Yeah well, you didn’t seem so fond of Mr. Six, so, I kept that one for myself.” Barton shrugged and grinned, then pulled a box out of the bottom. “And I had Stark whip this up, on account we kinda screwed your street up.”

Bucky shot him a narrow look, setting the hoodies aside to open the box. Inside, a much slimmer mask sat folded, a pamplet underneath. “What is it? Like a balaclava?” 

“Kind of. It’s got a minimal version of the breathing system he uses in the Iron Man suits, just the filter system really. It’s guaranteed for daily use as long as you’re not at ground zero for something catastrophic.” 

“Yeah, I try to avoid those, thanks.” Bucky paused, fingering the light material. It was black, and almost cloth like, instead of the clunky machines he was used to wearing. “I can’t take this, not really. He should be mass producing these, cause there’s a lot of people out there that,” Bucky paused, looking at Clint’s upheld hand.

“Yeah, we already looked into that. When I told him about you said, about coming back from the desert with the lung thing, he went off on his research tangent. There are a lot of guys like you. He’s on it. You’re his prototype.” Something in Barton’s eyes sparkled, but it also felt deeper than that. Clint wasn’t dropping eye contact at all, nor did he act like he was joshing him along in a pity party either. 

“Well. In that case.” Bucky paused, taking a deep breath before cracking the seal on his respirator. He held his breath, holding up the thin material, looking it over before holding it up to his face, pressing the connection together behind his head. 

It crackled for a second, then it just kinda flowed as it fell into place around his nose and mouth. He took a short breath, then a deeper one, blinking. “Woah.” 

“Hey, it doesn’t even do the Darth Vader voice thing. Awesome!” Clint said, clapping. 

“No, that’s good. I could make phone calls with this on.” Bucky rubbed at his cheeks, blinking, then turned to Clint. “Thanks. I… Thanks isn’t enough. This is… It’s amazing.” 

“It comes with a catch,” Clint said, his mouth twisting a bit with a smirk. He fished out his first slice of pizza, taking a big bite before pointing it at Bucky. “You wanna use it, you gotta go down to Stark tower to report in to Tony so’s he can update his prototype.” 

“And that’s a bad thing?” Bucky asked, rubbing at the mask.

“You ain’t met Tony yet. You might change your mind about who your least favorite Avenger is after you do.” Clint took another bite and grinned wider. 

Bucky just laughed and shook his head. “You have a weird life, Barton.” 

“Ha! Just wait until Thor’s back on Earth!”

#

The first floor of Stark tower was not what Bucky was expecting. The security was there, but there were way more people than he expected, thronging from the retail and the services and even the discreet clinic tucked to the side. The message he’d gotten in his email had asked him to come down at any time for a check in regarding the mask, so he assumed the clinic was where he needed to go. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have a James Barnes in my system anywhere,” the receptionist told him, frowning even though her eyes flicked across the face mask knowingly. “You might try the guard desk, if it’s something that Mr. Stark has decided to take on personally.” 

Bucky tapped his fingers on the marble and nodded. “Yeah, thanks. I’m sorry. I’ll uh, figure this out.” 

He was three steps away from the desk when his phone rang. It was still novel enough to answer it without having to deal with finding a clean space to take the mask off. “Uh, Hello?” 

“Sergeant Barnes, my name is Jarvis. I apologize, I did not give very clear instructions in my email this morning. Please proceed to the desk in the southwest corner of the concourse and they will check you in. I assume, of course, you are here about the mask? Or did you wish to visit Agent Barton?” 

Bucky coughed a bit in surprise at the preciseness of the other voice. “Ah, no, I’m here about the mask, like you asked. It was you, huh? Thanks. I think? Oh and uh, call me Barnes, will you? I’m out of the service.” 

“You are most welcome, Mr. Barnes. I will let Mr. Stark know of your arrival. If he’s not available, I will conduct your check in myself, if that’s all right.” 

Wow, way more than he was expecting. “Actually, that might uh, be easier.” Bucky laughed, turning to orient himself and head towards the guard station Jarvis had suggested. 

“Dr. Banner also assisted with the mask. He may step in as well.” The phone disconnected before Bucky could say anything else. He shot the exit a longing look, but went over to check in instead.

The guard was unimpressed when he looked up. Bucky knew he couldn’t see the smile behind the mask, but he did it anyways because it softened out his eyes and crinkled up the corners of his cheeks. He held out his driver’s license as his ID. “Hi, my name is James Barnes, I’m here to see a man about this mask?” 

The guard didn’t even flicker an eyebrow, even as the system chuckled out an ID for him to clip a hook to and hand it up. “You’re restricted to certain levels and you can only access them from this elevator. Please know that Jarvis has taken responsibility for you and that you will not lose him because Jarvis IS the building. Please put your palm on the reader to scan in.” 

Bucky blinked, then straightened up and stepped over to the blinking reader. The moment his hand merely hovered over it, it blinked green and the elevator door slid open. The guard didn’t look back, but merely went back to scanning the crowd. “Okay then. Thanks.” 

Bucky stepped into the elevator, looking for a button, but there weren’t any to push. The moment the doors slid shut, Jarvis’ voice filled the cabin. “My apologies for the abruptness. I did not get a chance to give them warning that you were arriving. They’re rather used to people coming and going now, thanks to agents Barton and Romanoff.” 

“Huh. I don’t mind being thought of as shady.” Bucky laughed, reaching up to rub at his eyebrows. “So you’re the whole building too, huh? I promise, I’m good at behaving these days.” 

“That will make a nice change of pace, thank you.” Jarvis’ voice was lightly droll on those words, making Bucky smile under the mask. “If I may, I employ a high quality filter to ensure no pollutants or airborne irritants are present, if you wish to remove your mask at any time. Since the incident in Afghanistan, Mr. Stark has become somewhat stringent on cleanliness in the lab and residential areas.”

Afghanistan, right, the whole arc reactor thing in his chest. “Yeah, I bet. Thanks Jarvis. It’s actually been pretty comfortable to wear.” Even so, it was nice to be able to finger the velcro free and remove the mask and take a deep breath of the scentless air in the elevator. 

“I’m glad to hear it. Sir does pride himself on making things usable, despite what others might have said about his efforts. Please brace yourself, Mr. Barnes. He is awake and he’s in a bit of a mood.” 

At those words, the elevator door slid open to chaos. 

Across the wide lab, an arc welder was splashing sparks across the floor as something was being cut or melted, Bucky couldn’t tell which, really. Robots were lifting and moving things in an hypnotic dance everywhere and in the center of the room, holographic displays hung around a dark haired man wearing a Iron Maiden shirt over dress pants and a pair of Iron Man gauntlets, chattering ninety miles a minute at Jarvis and the bot holding up a blender of green goo. “No, I’m not drinking that, you forgot to add in the sweetener, I know you did. I don’t care what Pepper said, if it’s not sweet enough, I won’t be able to gag it down. Now Jarvis, the T-48 models were having an intake issue that I wanted to look at again.” 

“Mr. Stark, may I introduce you to James Barnes. You said you wanted to speak to him about the filtration masks you made,” Jarvis interrupted neatly. 

Bucky took two steps forward, realizing that his jaw was more than a little slack but unable to reel it in. “Uh, hi. Wow.” 

Stark spun around in his chair, narrowing his eyes at the intruder. “You. What’s your name again, Proctor-Barnes?” 

Bucky blinked. The right gauntlet had disappeared, replaced with a glass of green goop courtesy of the robot rolling away to a kitchenette in the corner. “No, that’s my grandmother. I’m just James Barnes. It’s a pleasure to meet you. This mask you made me, it’s…”

Stark snapped his fingers, then wiggled them in the air. “Bring it, c’mon, over here. That’s it. Plug it in right there. Yup, there’s a port right, okay.” Bucky found himself uncovering a port he had no idea existed in the mask he’d worn nonstop the past three days and plugging it into a diagnostic unit next to a real live Iron Man helmet. The day had just slid right into surreality. 

“This was kinda fun to make, you know. All stretchy materials without having to add armor for a change. I wanted to make it Iron Man red, but everyone talked me into neutral colors. Hey, you want fashion colors on the next one. Sky’s the limit you know.” Stark’s chatter never slowed down. Bucky had to race to keep up.

“No, black and gray are fine for now, thanks. It’s a really cool mask as it is. Really comfortable.” 

“Yeah, I saw the schematics from the one you submitted for reimbursement. That was a clunker. We can do waaay better than that from now on. Hey, did you know you got a bit of a mold problem in your building? Come around, take a look at this.” 

Bucky found himself staring at a more complete allergen and pollutant readout than he’d been able to afford. “Yeah, sometimes the stuff we get offered isn’t the cleanest in the world. We specialize in restoration so the mold isn’t surprising. We do try to keep it to one room though.” 

“Jarvis, can you pull up a schematic, thanks. Yeah I see what you mean.” A 3 D display popped up on the monitor next, narrowing down to the back room where they did most of the restoration work. “Okay, I see what we’re working with. Right. J, give me the updated seismo-filters I was goofing around with last night, I think those’ll work better than the katydids. And make a note to tell Bruce he was right. He loves that.” 

Stark was peeling the mask into two and popping the inside bits out, then replacing them with new gizmos the moment that the two robots rolled the boxes over to him. The inside of the mask was a maze of tiny connections. He only got a glimpse of the workings before Stark sealed it shut again. The genius watched the screen for a moment, grunted and poked at the keyboard while muttering at his AI until he was satisfied. Then the mask was being unplugged and tossed back against Bucky’s chest.

“There, that’s now Mark 2. Bring it back next week and we’ll see if we need to make any new adjustments.” Stark was already spinning back to the gauntlets of his Iron Man suit, grinning at him like a maniac. 

“Thanks. I mean it. This has been amazing this week. Seriously.” Bucky raised the mask as a salute. “You have no idea how many people will get a little more freedom out of this thing.” 

“Pssh.. It’s just a filter mask.” Stark ducked his head, shifting away. “Now go away before that Patriotic pain in my ass shows up and makes me explain what I’m doing.” Stark waved at him, pointing him towards the elevator. “Or worse. That purple pin cushion shows up and talks me into something else!” 

Bucky laughed and stepped onto the elevator, shaking his head. Something whooshed and the smell of diesel rolled into the elevator as the doors closed, surrounding him and choking the air off around him. He fumbled for the mask to get it on, but the damage was done. Every gasp narrowed the smell in his mind more than his lungs. All he could see were diesel trucks on fire, the heat warping the air between them as he ran for cover, the smell getting stronger as every gasp brought less and less oxygen.

Faintly he could hear Jarvis trying to reassure him, trying to get his attention. Bucky was aware he was on his knees against the wall, arms wrapped around himself tightly as he tried to fight his way through the attack. Intellectually, he knew this was a panic attack, not an asthma attack, but that gave him no control over his body fighting to get one clean breath of air into his chest. 

The pressure around him changed, and two strong arms gently peeled him away from the wall. One hand rubbed the center of his back, easing the tight muscles threatening to spasm with every gasp. Another held him firmly in the center of his chest, giving him support but holding him clear of any obstruction. 

They moved off the elevator, into a beige hallway. A tenor voice murmured from behind, soft Irish words of support, words from his childhood. _“Chuiread mo rún chun suain go ciúin, le dilín ó deamhas ó dí.”_ Between the firm touch on his back and chest, the blank view, and the tender voice murmuring familiar words in his ear, the panic attack slowly melted away and the frenzy in his chest began to let him breath short, stuttery breaths. He reached up and jerked the mask off to breath in deeper, listening to himself wheeze.

“That’s it, just breath in, slow and easy. One, two, three in,” the voice said, counting up and then down for him until he was in control of himself again. “There. That’s better, yeah?” 

Bucky turned to look at his new companion, flushing crimson to realize it was the last person in the building he wanted to talk to. “Yeah,” he admitted slowly. “Thanks. I didn’t expect it to hit here.” 

“Yeah. Jarvis runs a really clean building. But that wasn’t an asthma attack, was it?” This close, those blue eyes were even softer than he expected them to be. Ugh. 

“No. I thought I smelled something, when I was up in Stark’s workshop.” Bucky pulled away slowly, tucking the Mark 2 mask into his pocket as he stood up, keeping his head low. “I’m uhm.. Triggered by smells more than sounds or things, sometimes,” he admitted through gritted teeth.

“Ah. Yeah, Tony’s labs are always a cornucopia of interesting things. I have Jarvis tell me if he’s working with ice or sea water, personally,” Steve replied softly. The Nitwit was looking away, at the other wall. 

“Mr. Barnes, if you wish, you can tell me what scents you prefer to avoid in the future and I will gladly assist,” Jarvis said from above. 

“Yeah, I’ll definitely let you know.” Bucky ducked his head, smoothing his hair back before ducking to the door. “Anyways, I need to go. I ah, I appreciate you uh, answering the door, I guess?” 

“Jarvis asked me to step in. I’m glad he did. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, you know.” Steve had stood up as well, and Bucky let himself look over at him. He was wearing jeans this time, and a dark grey sweater that brought out the blue in his eyes. Bucky really wished he didn’t know that bit.

He ducked away again, rubbing at the back of his neck, turning to look around the floor they were on. It was obviously living quarters, despite the bland paint job. He could hear faint music down the hallway. The scent of generic cleaners was faint, but he couldn’t smell anything else over them. “Sarah said she met you.” 

“She’s amazing, your sister. She’s been emailing me all sorts of things to read,” Steve said behind him. 

“Is that where you learned the song?” Bucky blurted, then bit his lip, flushing a little.

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head when Bucky looked up at him. “No. That’s what your grandmother used to do for me, when I had asthma attacks as a kid. She learned it from my mother. I couldn’t tell you how many times she did that for me.” 

Unbidden, the memory of his grandmother’s voice rose up in his ear, humming the same song as she nursed him through multiple hurts through childhood years. He couldn’t help but smile at the memory, even when the elevator door opened again, spilling out an anxious Barton. “Jarvis said you were here, that you were having an asthma attack!” 

He laughed, waving the archer’s worried face away. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’m fine. Your precious billionaire didn’t kill me off yet.” 

“Hey, he’s only my landlord, my armorer, and my teammate, but he’s not my precious anything,” Clint shot back, relief flooding his face as he rocked back on his heels. 

Bucky smiled, nodding and stepping closer to Clint, drawn to the warmth he was familiar with. 

“James.. Mr. Barnes, please. I really would love a few minutes to talk to you, maybe figure out how to make things right by Rebecca.” Steve was following him, staying a few feet away but still far too close.

“Then maybe you should try talking to her and apologizing, huh? Hey Jarvis, can we go downstairs from here?” Bucky asked, stepping onto the elevator. 

“Yes sir. Although, I think..” 

“See ya Barton. Thanks, Rogers, but I really gotta go now. Jarvis, if you would please.” Bucky pressed his back against the wall the furthest away from the door, only breathing deep again when the doors slid closed. 

“As you wish, Mr. Barnes. I must mention that Captain Rogers is requesting that you return whenever you are comfortable. It is an open invitation.” 

“I understand, Jarvis. I just.” Bucky paused, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I just need to go home.” 

“Understood. I have taken the liberty to request a cab for you. It will be waiting when you reach the ground floor.” 

“Thank you, Jarvis. You really are something special.” 

“You’re welcome, Mr. Barnes.” 

#

Steve watched the elevator closed, feeling the blood drain out of him and pool somewhere outside of his body, if it was possible. Slowly he turned to look at Clint. The sympathy on his friend’s face was plain, but that was only incidental to the realization blooming in his heart. 

“Jarvis, I never really thought to ask. What is Rebecca Procter-Barnes’ date of death,” He asked softly, voice cracking on the last few words.

“That information is not in any database I have access to,” the AI replied regretfully.

Clint blinked, then stood up straighter, as the idea hit him too. “Is it because maybe, like Director Carter, she’s not actually dead?” 

“That…. Standby, recalculating,” Jarvis said crisply.

“I just assumed. I’ve been looking for the graveyard to visit. Not her. No wonder he was so mad. If she’s alive and I ignored her…” Steve let the words drift, rubbing at his face with both hands. His pulse jumped as the blood rushed back into his face as he flushed in dismay. His friend, waiting somewhere for him to remember, to go find her, just like after Rebirth. Instead he’d gone on another charity tour, just like the bond sales that Senator Brandt sent him on.

“You didn’t know. None of us knew, and we looked,” Clint said before biting his lip at the admission. “I mean, Natasha and I did. You deserved to know and all.” 

Steve smiled sadly, squeezing Clint’s shoulder, then tugged a little. “C’mon. I need a beer.”

They were settling in at the breakfast bar, sampling the latest offering of modern snack food Tony had dumped at Steve’s door when Jarvis finally came back. 

“I apologize for the delay. It took some work to unravel. Rebecca Barnes of the same date of birth current resides at the Harbor House retirement center in Jamaica Bay. I am sending the address and visiting hours to your phone and tablet. There had been some work at hiding her identity that I had to recognize as such, which is why I had never recognized it in our previous searches. I do apologize for that, Captain.” 

“It’s okay Jarvis. I don’t think they wanted us to know. I can respect that. Thank you for finding it this time.” Steve looked at his tablet, scrolling through the information, then put it down to drain the bottle of beer in one drink.

“I can go find where Tony squirreled away the last of the Asgard hooch if you really need a kick in the pants,” Clint offered.

“Not right now, but… I might need that after I go see her,” Steve said, going to liberate the rest of the six pack.

Clint saluted him with his own bottle. “Consider it covered.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuiread mo rún chun suain go ciúin, le dilín ó deamhas ó dí.” This is from an Irish Lullaby called Forever Oh. Translation is "I lulled my darling to sleep, to sleep, with Forever Oh. There's a Youtube video by Gugalai Gug Beo of the song.


	5. Five

Steve felt more nervous than he did walking up to that first engagement after Azzano, with the Howlers at his back, trusting him to know what he was doing. The whole time, he felt like he’d made every decision wrong. 

This time it was a civilian retirement center. He had Natasha and Clint as backup. Clint was chatting with a couple of people at the coffee shop on the corner nearby, while Natasha was visiting her newly discovered aunt under her newly created persona, on the porch. There was a hum of Russian in the back of his head, thanks to the comms. It soothed him a little, to have that counter point.

“So tell me, more nervous or scared at this point?” Sarah asked. She was coming down the steps, one hand out to take his. To his ever lasting appreciation, she’d agreed to go with him this first meeting. 

Steve took her hand, carefully squeezing, reminding himself to breath. “How can you tell the difference?” he asked sourly.

Sarah laughed softly, then took pity on him and started to lead him around the side of the building. “She’s out back. She’s decided to take up gardening, for some reason. It’s a good excuse to be outside in the sun, I guess.” 

“Becca? Gardening? She hated vegetables as a kid,” Steve blurted. Sarah patted his wrist and he forced himself to loosen his grip. “Sorry.” He said, even as he heard a couple chuckles from distant people. 

“I have no idea what kind of garden they have here. It’s all organized by the Center and everything.” Sarah was still rubbing his wrist as he looked around. It was a long, two story building that looked more like an apartment complex than an assisted living place. But there were staff roaming around, at a ratio of maybe four residents to one staffer, if Steve was doing his math right. One group out on the back lawn was doing Tai Chi or Yoga, something very Bruce if he was to stereotype it. 

Beyond that group was another one with easels that made his heart ache. If things had gone right, he would have been here. He should have been with them, shaking hands applying whatever paint they were working with to canvas. It drove home all the years he’d lost, frozen in place as the world left him behind. He let go of Sarah’s hand to ball his fists up.

“Breath Rogers. I can hear you grind your teeth from over here,” Natasha murmured through the comms.

He stopped on the path, turning away from that group to look at the water, taking a deep breath, but that didn’t last. Between them and the water were the gardens. Several people wandered through the raised beds, but most had picked one to work at, digging and doing things he had no words for. At the far end of the garden, he could see a woman with an attendant unloading a tray of flowers next to her. She wore a floppy hat and a shawl over her shoulders, and there was an aluminum walker frame next to her. 

Steve glanced at Sarah for confirmation, but he knew before she nodded. It was Rebecca. His heart was pounding and his pulse was jumping higher than when he’d woken up in that mockery of a recovery room. 

“I can’t.” 

“You have to, Steve. She’s been waiting,” Sarah said, before taking his hand again and pulling him along without looking back. He sailed along behind her helplessly, a warship at the mercy of a tugboat in harbor. 

She didn’t let go until they reached Rebecca’s side. Then Sarah knelt down beside her grandmother. Steve knew then he’d be drawing this scene later, because the family resemblance was immediate. 

“Hi Grandma, surprise!” Sarah knelt in to kiss Rebecca’s cheek, smiling at the gasp of recognition. 

“Sarah Winifred Barnes, what are you doing here on a Tuesday! Who’s minding the store?” Rebecca swatted at her granddaughter, but immediately demanded a hug after. 

“Bucky finally approved Arnie to work part time. Passed all his tests.” Sarah dropped to her knees after giving the hug, smiling up at her grandmother. Rebecca sat in a low chair, her feet tucked neatly beneath her. “Oh who’s this?” 

“Your cousin Amanda brought her over to see how she’d fit in. Sassafrassin’ little snot. But she’s amusing.” A small cat, mostly white but with gray paws, ears, and tail had poked it's head out of the garden bed to investigate the disturbance. 

Sarah reached over to offer scratches, which were eventually accepted. Steve watched, entranced, committing every moment to memory to draw again later. 

“She’s perfect! Such a bold miss! I bet you get into everything, don’t you?” Sarah grinned as the kitten tumbled out of the bed to immediately climb up into Rebecca’s lap. “I brought you something too.”

“Yeah? Hope it’s not as frustrating as this one,” Rebecca said fondly, petting the kitten with trembling fingers. 

“Oh, it’s probably worse. Look over there.” Sarah pointed towards Steve, and his enchantment with the moment was broken. He wished he’d thought to bring the shield, or maybe Thor. Bruce would be good to hide behind too.

Rebecca looked over as she was directed, then went completely still. “Hi Becca. You’re a hard lady to find these days,” Steve said weakly.

Her jaw flexed and her fingers tightened on the kitten. Steve suddenly felt 12 again as he shifted in place. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw stiffened as well. “Are you who I think you are? Have you FINALLY come to explain what hair-brained idea you agreed to?” 

Rebecca shifted and before Steve could duck, a chunk of dirt connected to a green stem and a blue and pink striped flower bounced off his chest. He twitched and stepped back as a second one bounced off his shoulder.

“Becca, wait! I’ve been looking for you for months!” The third flower he managed to duck, but the fourth landed squarely on his face. “Oh, come on!”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I have been so angry with you for so many years, and NOW you show up with a ‘hi Becca’ and no explanations and nothing else?” A fifth flower flew, but he managed to duck that one too.

“That’s why I’m here! You have to give me a minute! If you’d quit throwing things at me!” He blurted. “What are we, twelve? Fighting behind Melvin’s Drug Emporium again?” 

“I’ll throw whatever I want to at you, just like I did then!” Becca picked up a hand sized shovel and threw it next. Steve caught that one by reflex, groaning. 

“I’m sorry, okay! I wanted to tell you the moment it happened! I’ve been looking for you ever since they dug me out of the ice.” Steve glanced over at Sarah, sighing and rolling his eyes when he realized she had backed out of the danger zone to pull out her phone and record the whole thing. Probably for James. “But your family carries a grudge just like you do!”

“Of course they do.” A three pronged claw thing came next, and he caught that as well, taking a step forward. The kitten in her lap hissed, ears back. “You were supposed to come back! You weren’t even supposed to get into the Army in the first place!” 

“I didn’t expect them to drop a total blackout on me. I tried to write letters to you. Didn’t any of them make it to you?” Steve dropped down onto his knees next to her, biting his lip. “I know they kept your letters from me. I found that out after they woke me up.” 

“That Carter woman.” Becca snarled the words out and threw her hand in the air, rolling her eyes. “She came around when they finally unclassified everything and did that stupid biography. And got everything wrong!” Rebecca thumped the arm of her chair, then reached out to catch his ear. “Yes I got some letters. Your USO girls brought them around, now and then. It’s the only reason I knew you weren’t dead! I was so scared, Steven! And then even those stopped!”

“I’m sorry Becca, I am. I should’ve tried harder, figured out a way to get around them. I deserve everything you’ve said since that day.” Steve dropped to his knees and leaned into her hold, surprised at the strength in her hand. “I have a crate-full of stuff in the car for you, letters, sketchbooks, chocolates, a bunch of other things. I’ve got seventy years to make up to you, I know.” 

“Damn right you do. Sarah, put that phone down. I’m going inside and you need to come get Sassafrass for me. You,” she shook Steve’s ear hard. “You go get that crate out of the car and bring it inside. I want to see it. And hear your piss poor excuse of an apology.”

“Yes Ma’am,” they said in sync with each other.

“Humph.” Becca crossed her arms in her chair, glaring at them both.

#

“How many times did you watch the video?” Sarah asked, amusement in her voice.

Bucky shifted in his chair, putting down the computer he’d downloaded the video onto. “Oh, only once.” 

“Wow, you have a lot of restraint,” she said, the amusement flowing across the phone connection.

“Well, only once all the way through. The part where the flower slip bounced off his face? At least a dozen times.” Bucky laughed, leaning back in his chair. “She still has excellent aim.” 

“Yeah. Steve was telling me the stories of how she had the best knuckleball in the whole of lower Brooklyn. Evidently she kept baseballs in her bags to bean people with who beat him up.” 

“How very alliterative of her,” Bucky said with a chuckle. “I can see it though. Remember when we were kids, her hitting that one dog with a rock?”

“Bam, right off the nose. Yeah, I remember.” Sarah was chuckling too. “I left them there, still talking. Mrs. Peterson promised to kick him out at the end of visiting hours.” 

“Good. I’ll swing by tomorrow after work then.”

“Yeah, reminds me, how did Arnie do today?” 

Bucky laughed, stretching out onto his sofa, secure in his mask to keep from having to go back into his clean room. “Tossed an obvious con guy out on his ear for trying to pass a doctored first edition on him. I was proud.” 

“Awww, I told you that you were being too hard on him!” A door shut in the background, then the sound of her heels on the stairs. “Get up and unlock the door already. You better have leftovers for me.” 

“Lasagna from Mickey’s, check. Door’s open.” 

Bucky hung up and replayed the video again, watching the whole thing one more time with a smile, particularly when the flowers bounced off the outraged super soldier. He’d have to screen cap those and print them for his clean room. 

The front door swung open to reveal Sarah peeling off her coat. “Hey, big brother. Thanks for dinner.”

“Thanks for the video. Is this the explanation part of our evening?” he asked, closing the laptop to actually sit up straight instead of slouching. 

“Nope. You know why I did it.” Sarah kicked off her shoes and ran the lint roller over her pants before heading to the kitchen. He hadn’t reacted to cats yet, but he appreciated it all the same. 

“Maybe. How’s she doing?” He pushed off the couch to head into the kitchen as well, hopping up onto a counter to watch her put her dinner together.

“Pretty good, things considering. They’re monitoring her heart, of course. This is a huge stress on her, but I think it’s good. She’s been wanting to see him for a long time.” Sarah helped herself to his stash of wine, nodding at the reds before picking one. 

“I know. I just had to let him stew a little first.” He smiled sheepishly, then grabbed a glass to hold out while she filled her own. 

Sarah glared at him for a moment, then filled it too. “More like a lot. But I get it. We all got mad that he didn’t come looking.” 

“Yeah. And I did listen to Sam, shut up. I’m not so angry right now that I don’t know I was using him as a scape goat. Tomorrow might be different.” Bucky put the glass down beside him before slowly unsnapping the mask, taking a couple experimental breaths before putting it into his pocket. It folded up nicely. Stark tech. He loved it.

Sarah chuckled, saluting him with her own glass before taking a sip. “I’ll have to tell him that. He’ll appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, and then he’ll rub it in for the next year, thanks.” Bucky took a sip too, then rocked his chin forward a bit. “So go on, tell me everything.” 

“Oh god, Steve was so nervous. Like a bundle of kittens nervous. Pretty sure I saw Romanoff on the veranda too. But it was also kinda fun?” 

Bucky listened as his sister talked him through the day as she ate her dinner, relaxing as he took in her thoughts and reflections. The memory of Steve singing the lullaby wouldn’t leave him at all. But that was something to think about on some other day.

#

The Center was quiet, like always, when Bucky stepped off the bus. Out front, there were the usual group of seniors doing their lap around the grounds. Several of them smiled and waved as he passed by, exclaiming at his new mask with surprise and admiration. 

“I can finally see those pretty eyes again!” Gertie exclaimed, poking his thigh with his cane. 

Bucky laughed and leaned in to bump his nose against her cheek in an imitation of a kiss. “You’re still the biggest flirt ever, aren’t you?” 

“Oh no, your grandmother’s new friend is taking that honor. Half the girls in the Center are swooning like it’s 1964 all over again!” Gertie cackled and poked him again before letting him go. “He’s almost as cute as John or Paul was back then. Go on, and go save our virtues!” 

“More like save your dignities, you mean?” Bucky winked at her before letting her go catch up with her group. 

So Steve wasn’t keeping a low profile on his visits. That wasn’t a surprise, not really. Bucky sighed and headed inside. 

He found them together in Rebecca’s little sitting area, every photo album she had piled on the table next to the tablet that everyone kept updated with recent photos too. A box of Kleenex sat between them and a small wastebasket below held a good collection of wet tissues already. 

“So why did Sarah go to college and get her doctorate but Bucky didn’t? They’re both brilliant,” He heard Steve ask, just before he turned into Becca’s room. 

Bucky paused, hating himself for eavesdropping but not really wanting to walk into that particular conversation. 

“Because 9/11 happened. And because Sarah got the scholarships but he didn’t get as many. Bucky decided to serve first, then follow up under the GI bill. That’s how it was supposed to work.” He heard Rebecca sigh and he ducked his head. He’d disappointed her, when he had gone into the Special Forces, he knew. 

“You remember how good I was with baseballs and you laugh, but Bucky was just as good. He beat me at darts, as soon as he figured out how to throw them. The Army realized how good of a shot he was. He doesn’t think I know as much as I do, but Bucky ended up as a sniper. I read. I know where he went, what situations they put him into. I thank God every day they let me have him back. They took you and kept you, but they let me have him back.” 

Bucky pressed his hand against the mask, closing his eyes and clenching tightly to keep from making any noise to let her know he’d heard. He’d never guessed, not once. But she’d always been the one to let him just sit beside her in silence and stare as he trickled back to being human after his discharge. Everyone else had been too loud, too intrusive, too much. But never grandma Becca.

“I think, that’s when I started to let go of my anger I carried towards you. Unfortunately, that’s when he picked it up.” Becca laughed. “Better get used to someone being mad at you.” 

“Means something in this world is finally normal again. I’ve missed you yelling at me,” Steve said. 

“I’ve got plenty to yell about. Now tell me about YOU. You got yourself a young man yet?”

Now that gave Bucky some whiplash. Captain America? Gay? 

“Becca!” How did he sound so flustered in one word. “Of course not! They barely let me out in public by myself as it is!”

“Well just in case they haven’t said it, it’s allowed now. Some people will yell and scream, but you can even marry a man and have it be legal. No more hiding behind my skirts or my memory. Or that Carter woman, you hear me!”

“Ow! Yes, I hear you. And I know it is! Stop Becca! Where did you get that anyways?” 

Bucky peeked into the room to see Grandma Becca thumping a ducking and flustered Steve with a fly swatter. He laughed without thinking, catching both of their attentions.

“Bucky! Get in here! Hold him down for me! I got years of catching up to do!” Becca yelled. 

“Yes ma’am!” he replied, even though his knees went weak with laughter at the panicked look on Steve’s face.


	6. Six

Bucky ignored the press out in front of Stark tower. This was his third visit so far, and the second time had been just as crowded. He was good at glaring so no one pushed close to ask him anything. Even so, he opted to slide into a side door before heading to his usual elevator. 

“Hey Jarvis, what’s all that out front this time?” he asked, once the elevator doors slid closed.

“Mr. Stark has announced a new initiative regarding equal rights, pairing his legal services with LGBQTA individuals who need the assistance. Since then, quite a few reporters and paparazzi have tried to get the Avengers on record with statements. Most of them have released something through Miss Potts.” 

“Huh. Guess I should read about historic events in this decade after all.” Bucky smiled as he pulled off the mask inside the elevator. 

“Perhaps.” Jarvis’ voice was dry. “As such, Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are not available for this check in, so I will take all the measurements. Will that be satisfactory?” 

“Absolutely. You’re nowhere near as frightening.” Bucky laughed, leaning against the elevator wall as he relaxed. “Is Clint on site or is he hiding from the maniacs too?” 

“Definitely hiding but mostly by haunting some of my air ducts. Feel free to text him and lure him out.” Now Jarvis was definitely being sarcastic. 

Bucky laughed and dug out his phone, texting Clint that he’s in the tower and heading to the lab. He’d barely had time to plug the mask into the diagnostics before the door opened to let a sliding body through it. He looked up to take in the view, then squinted hard. “Dude, did something chew on you this time?” 

“Ugh, close?” Clint straightened up, gingerly rubbing at the back of his neck. Band aids were stuck liberally to most of the bare skin he could see, and both eyes and cheekbones were bruised. 

“Whatever it was, you look like a trash panda now,” Bucky said ruefully, shaking his head. 

“Oh man, vicious! I thought I was the one you liked!” Clint laughed and walked over to watch the procedure, body relaxed despite his words. “What’s up with the plug and play? You break one of Stark’s toys?” 

Bucky just shrugged at the first statement, flashing the archer a wicked grin, then shook his head. “Nah, but not for lack of trying. I actually went to Times Square this week, now that they added a filter for my triggers.” That had been a fun conversation, admitting that the smell of propellant on his first visit had triggered the panic attack in the elevator. 

To his eternal surprise, Stark had just gone “Huh, I can fix that.” Now the mask filtered out the smells that usually sent him over the edge and masked them with a choice of scents. Bucky was quickly associating the smell of vanilla and sugar cookies with support and protection. 

“Madman. Way too many tourists these days. Someone told them that Captain America sometimes takes a jog through there.” Clint’s face was suspiciously blank, except for the deepening of the laugh lines around his eyes. 

“Uh-huh. Certainly explains a lot.” Bucky flashed him a grin before unplugging the mask when Jarvis told him to, waiting for the two bots to whirr over with the replacement bits the AI wanted to put into it. “Hi guys. How are you?” 

Dum-E waved his claw up and down in an obvious hello, but Butterfingers whirred and dropped lower. “Aww no, Daddy Stark yelled at you again? Poor guy. Want me to put a tack in his chair or something?” Butterfingers shot straight up at that and whirred an obvious warning. “Guess not.” 

Clint was clinging to the bench as he laughed. “Oh maan, don’t make them mad! They’ll hide everything on you! I’m still waiting for Dum-E to tell me where my magnets are.” 

Dum-E spun his claw in what was a very good imitation of Stark’s raspberry. “See?” Clint yelled, pointing at the bot as Bucky switched out the filters.

“I’m guessing you probably left some of them stuck to him?” he asked lightly, turning to grin at him.

“Well, maybe.” Clint shrugged, grinning unrepentantly through the bruises and band-aids. “What are you up to now?” 

“Nothing, really. I never know what to expect when I come in so I set aside the whole afternoon. Now I gotta figure out how to fill it.” 

“Wanna come up a couple floors? Got a huge game console and Tony has the best delivery people.” Clint was relaxed, but something twinkled in his eye.

It was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue to ask who else was up there when lights started flashing. “I apologize, Agent Barton, but there’s another Assemble call, if you feel ready for it. Director Fury is overriding your medical leave.” 

“Crap!” Clint yelled, but he still slid away to bounce towards the elevator. Before he left, he twisted to point at Bucky. “Rain check! I gotta check your Mario Kart skills.” 

“There are no friendships on the Rainbow Road, my man!” Bucky yelled back, laughing as Barton gave him a thumbs up while the door slid shut. 

“Guess that’s my cue to head back downstairs, huh Jarvis?” 

“The upgrades to your mask are complete, unless there are any other changes you would like to request. I would like to advise you, Mr. Stark added pizza to your scent filters. It has not been fully tested.” 

“Noted. Thank you, Jarvis. Don’t tell Clint, but you’re still my favorite.” Bucky smiled as he put the mask back together, then saluted the nearest camera. 

“I am pleased you think so. And no, Agent Barton spends enough time trying to circumvent my security measures as it is, thank you. I shall keep that to myself.” 

That last statement had him so amused, he didn’t pay attention which door he went out. Which meant he walked out right into the media scrum. 

He’d at least got the mask on, so despite their hungriness for any statement and their boredom, he’d almost managed to turn left and walk out of them. Until someone shoved a mic into his face and forced him to turn around.

“Excuse me, are you part of the outreach program with Stark Industries? Do you work here? Do you have a moment to talk to us?” 

Bucky turned to glare at the voice, recognizing it almost immediately. That southern accent had been famous in the barracks for calling them baby killers until the GOP needed to go hard on the patriot porn to stir up nationalistic pride. 

“Lady, I’m a veteran, so yeah, I’m here for the outreach. Stark Industries has been real good for me. You got a problem with that?” Bucky knew her name, but he refused to say it. 

She took a step back, frowning a bit at the view of the mask, but he’d bit the bait. “My name’s Amber Whitmore and I’m with InTimes Reporting. Can I ask you a for a few moments of your time?” 

“I’d say you already got them.” Bucky crossed his arms, leaning on his right foot, his left slightly back and ready to push off from if he had to.

“Tony Stark’s new initiative to force his agenda on other businesses into accepting customers they normally would have the right to refuse is a little too far, wouldn’t you think?” She pushed her microphone closer, obviously afraid that the mask would muffle his answer. 

“Actually, I’m quite glad for that. I know a lot of vets who could use a little legal help like that. A lot of good people who’ve been pushed out of jobs or their homes for no good reason, cause dealing with their injuries or PTSD ain’t easy. A normal, every day schedule isn’t always possible, especially when the rest of the world would rather you’d just up and disappear instead.”

“But forcing normal people to live with obscenity in their homes though, surely that’s not any way to lead, like he says he’s trying to do?”

Bucky coughed out a rough laugh. “Lady, you ever tried to live with someone who hates you, who truly hates you? I served in Iraq and Afghanistan both, but no one there hated me half as much as Americans hate a gay person, right here in New York City. Just like you, standing right there with your perfect hair and mic stuck in my face, and they were fuckin shooting at me!”

He saw the shift in her eyes, the predatory gleam even as she leaned in more. “So you’re saying you don’t mind Captain America coming out yesterday as gay? As a veteran of the American Armed Forces, that doesn’t bother you one bit?” She leered a bit for the camera, leaning in for the juicy reaction she thought she was setting him up for. “Or are you saying you’d join him in that perversion?”

Bucky leaned in and narrowed his eyes straight into the camera. “One, it doesn’t matter who’s gay or not. It shouldn’t matter who you’re sleeping with either, if you’re consenting adults. Two, what makes Steve Rogers any different than you or me? He signed up to protect us from Nazis, not let you peek in on his personal life. The fact that he still fights, to this day, is something we should be grateful for. Not pick and choose what we like about him. Now go spit vomit on someone else’s steps already.”

He stalked off, ignoring all the other cameras and yelled comments, already cursing at himself for saying that much. And given that it was right on the front steps of the Avenger tower, there was no way that Jarvis or another camera hadn’t gotten full video and audio too. At least he hadn’t given his name. He clung to that as he made his escape into the throng of humanity.

#

One of the best things about having a new hand available in the shop was that Bucky could get back to doing what he liked best. Restoring and cleaning up the finds they sometimes came across that just needed a loving touch to be beautiful again. The mask from Stark just ensured that he wouldn’t have any coughing fits from random puffs of stale dust or whatever else found its way tucked up behind decades of neglect. Like the armoire that had caused the last bad fit he’d had. It was a pleasure to be sitting underneath it with a set of fine brushes and a can of air, knocking out the nasty bits with a feeling of triumph. 

Out in the shop, he could hear the chime of the door go off, and the murmur of Arnie’s voice. A deeper voice answered, then he could hear footsteps. Bucky slid himself out of the cabinet part of the armoire to look up at the security video, just in time to see Arnie dip under the camera, leading a second person towards the workshop door. They were leaning on a cane, but the bulk of those shoulders was pretty unmistakable. 

Arnie stuck his head through the door, blinking a little at the brightness of the work lamp before asking, “Bucky? You uh, you got a visitor? Is it okay if he comes back?” 

“Hey Arnie. Yeah, it’s okay. I need a break anyways.” Bucky grabbed at a clean cloth, rubbing at his exposed face first, then at his hands before pushing up to his feet as Steve limped into the room.

“Hi. Wow, this is just as great as the show room in here,” Steve said, pausing to look around the work room from where he stood.

“Thanks. What happened to you? You look like you turned into Barton or something.” Bucky gestured at the cane with his brush before starting to clean the dust and contaminates out of it.

Steve laughed, ducking as he waved the cane to the side a bit. “Got thrown off a building. Only so much the serum can do.”

Bucky kept from rolling his eyes from sheer will, then muttered, “Guess that’s why you’re here instead of over at Grandma’s, catching up. Hiding from her, huh?” 

The small part of Bucky’s brain that had never disliked Steve thought it was very cute how the rosy cheeks went even pinker at that. The rest of his jaded persona yelled at that fraction to shut up. 

“Yeah well. Let’s just say that was only a few years ago and it’s still very fresh in my memory, what she used to say to me,” Steve said, his head ducking just a bit. “Besides, I was hoping to talk to you, if you didn’t throw me out on my ear.” 

“The odds seem in your favor today,” Bucky said, smiling behind his mask. One thing he was going to ask Stark about, water filtration. He was thirsty but didn’t dare take it off without going through his jury rigged decom system and changing clothes at the very least. 

“Hey, I saw that one. Kinda scary, the political commentary in that.” Steve coughed, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Jarvis caught your interview on the steps today. Made sure we all saw it.” 

“Not surprised. He’s a very intuitive system, Jarvis.” Bucky pulled off his apron, then paused. “You wanna come upstairs? I’m dying of thirst but I gotta change or else I’ll go into another coughing fit.” 

Steve straightened up, blinking rapidly but nodding. “Uh, yeah, sure. That’d be great, if you really don’t mind?” 

“Nah. You’d tell Grandma and she’d yank on my ear and all that. So you’re safe from being bounced.” Bucky let him chew on that as he walked out front to tell Arnie he’d be on his own and to call upstairs when he’s ready to close up.

He almost made Steve take the stairs, but took enough pity to make him ride the rickety service elevator instead. “You’re sure this is safe?” Steve had asked warily as it shook and shimmied.

“Oh yeah, it’s only gotten stuck twice this year, so far!” Bucky had answered cheekily, then laughed at the sour look on Steve’s face. 

“Guess I deserve that one, maybe,” He’d muttered. 

“Nah, that’s just me being a brat. Sarah hates it too. The elevator, I mean.” Bucky shrugged as it pulled to a stop at the correct floor. “Maybe the attitude as well.” 

“Oh, Becca told me a couple stories about that,” Steve replied, slowly stepping off the elevator and following him down the hall. 

“That’s what grandmothers do! Embarrass you to all the legends she knows.” Bucky grinned as he opened the door next to his apartment. “Hang on. I have to decontaminate. Just hang out there for a sec.” 

Steve frowned as the door closed, but did as he was told. “You have your own decom room?” he yelled through the door.

“Sorta?” Bucky yelled back as he stripped and tossed his clothes into the laundry. His next step was to wipe down his skin and the mask with baby wipes before getting redressed and stepping back out. “It’s a precautionary thing. Cause we own the whole building, I can use all the space I need to keep stuff out of my apartment.” 

“Huh. Kinda like Stark and his tower, just… not as high tech, of course.” 

“And no Jarvis, unfortunately.” Bucky snapped his fingers before pointing at a rack of shoes, kicking his off as well before unlocking his apartment. Steve, after a second, kicked his off too before following him in.

He headed directly for the kitchen, waiting for the humidifier to kick on before pulling the mask off, taking a short breath before a deeper one, sighing softly. “Want a soda, or a beer or something?” 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” Steve had followed him slowly. Bucky could almost hear the curiosity in the careful steps. When he turned around to hand him a bottle of the micro brew he liked best, Steve was looking over the artwork on the wall. This one was a large floating pelvic bone of a cow, floating against a blue sky. Iconic, if you knew the artist.

Bucky stepped over beside him, smiling. “I get to keep some of the stuff that comes through the shop. That’s a fake, a very obvious fake if you know art.” 

The tenseness in Steve’s shoulders flooded out immediately as he laughed. “I didn’t want to say anything. But O’Keeffe’s abstracts had more life to them than this...” He paused, waving his hand at the painting.

“Still life. Yeah. This is a guy by the name of Hebert van Schlisberg. He’s a known fraud, and O’Keeffe was one of his favorites. He was active during the seventies. This popped up my first year in the shop and I bought it for myself. Guy who sold it knew it was a fake and was upfront about it.” He handed the beer to Steve before taking a sip from his own.

“I have a feeling there’s a story behind that.” Steve took the beer and saluted him before taking a sip. 

“Yup, but I don’t think you came to talk about art.” Bucky shifted, then leaned against the wall near the fake painting.

Steve flushed again and shook his head before ducking a little. “No. I ah….I’m still stuck on that interview, sorry.” 

“Yeah well, I had to come home and look up your interview.” Bucky saluted Steve with his own bottle. “Thank you, you know. I got a lot of friends happy with that little speech you made.” 

Steve snorted sourly. “Someone asked me to speak out against,” he paused and assumed a pinched attitude. “The erosion of American Values.” Then he pretended to barf. “So yeah, kinda had to shut that down as soon as I could.” 

“And then Stark decided to start this initiative with the legal stuff to back you up. That’s cool. And really, a lot of people are gonna benefit from it. Can’t punch everything.” 

Steve laughed, then muttered dryly, “So they tell me.” The look on his face was so reminiscent of his grandmother’s tired-of-your-bullshit look that Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. 

“C’mon, tell me about it all.” He waved at Steve to follow him and headed over to the chairs where he’d entertained Barton over pizza. This time, he dug out crackers and cheese for nibbles. 

“I ah, actually I came to thank you, for backing me up. I mean, we knew who you were and I’m sure there’s lots of people who might recognize you, but, it still meant a lot. Especially as I know you don’t really like me.” 

Bucky bit his lip, then sighed. “Okay, I have a lot of problems. One of them is I don’t just carry a grudge. I give it a room in my house and make it breakfast and buy it Christmas presents. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t like you.” He paused, choosing his words carefully, mindful of the conversation he’d overheard. “I needed a focus for my anger and my pain. I spent a lot of time with Grandma when I came back, and the concept of you was something outside my head I could rage at.” 

“Ah,” Steve said simply, but ducked his head a little. “Becca said something like that.” 

“And yeah, when you didn’t come to find her after waking up, then it kinda rekindled again.” Bucky shrugged, then sipped at his beer. 

Steve’s voice was soft and apologetic. “I thought she was dead. I was looking for her grave to lay flowers at. It wasn’t until after Clint found you that I realized I was wrong.” 

Bucky nodded, then huffed softly. “You know, once a month she took us out to Mrs. Rogers’ grave to clean it up and leave flowers? Still do.” He looked up with a sheepish smile.

He wasn’t prepared for the look on Steve’s face. Absolute shock had cleared every other emotion from his eyes, but tears glistened in the corners. His mouth hung open just a bit, and Bucky wondered if he was even breathing. “Of course we did, Steve. Grandmother wouldn’t leave her forgotten.” 

Super soldiers might punch Nazi war machines into oblivion, but they also have super collapses. Within half a second, Steve collapsed into himself and covered his head with a ridiculously large hand to hide while silent sobs shook through his body. Bucky hung his own head and silently went to get a larger box of Kleenex. 

In the time it took for Steve to get himself back under control, Bucky made a series of decisions. The biggest one was to let go of the grudge. Once it was evicted, there were a lot of things he couldn’t hide behind it anymore. One of those things was the fact that Sarah and grandmother and even mom and dad had let him be the one to decide how to handle things with one certain Steve Rogers. Including the things kept in the building he lived in, free of charge. Which led to another series of decisions. 

Steve excused himself to the bathroom to wash his face when the tears had stopped. When he came back, Bucky stood up. “Grab the Kleenexes, you’re gonna need them still. I ah, I need to show you something.” 

Steve looked at him warily, but nodded. “Okay. I think I can trust you.” 

Bucky smiled at the wryness of the comment, and nodded. “I hope you can. Grandmother trusted me with this until I was ready for this. You remember which apartment was hers, right?”

Steve swallowed, then nodded. “Fourth floor, apartment G. She always said it was for Grant so I’d remember where she was.” 

“Let’s go up there.” Bucky stepped out of his apartment and slid into what he thought of his building shoes. They were soft and comfortable, and he never wore them outside to track dirt and contaminants into the building. 

Steve still leaned on the crutch, but he followed up the stairs all right. While they climbed, Bucky started to tell the story. 

“Grandma lived here for another four years after you shipped out. It’s still the original building, for the most part. They never really remodeled the apartment floors, just the first floor shops now and then. 

“In 1965, right as President Johnson started re-escalating things in Vietnam and they needed some national pride, they decided to authorize a biography on you. Totally wrong reasons, of course, and long past when they should have done it. That’s when they finally declassified your identity and the biography was actually about you.”

“Yeah, I read it. And it was completely wrong in a lot of spots.” The venom in Steve’s voice made Bucky pause and turn to look at him with a grin, midstep.

“Yeah, Grandma Becca had a LOT of nasty words to say about that. She taught me the BEST curse words. All I had to do was bring up that biography.” Bucky winked, pulling at least a smile from Steve.

“Anyways, anything that had to do with Steve Rogers was suddenly in demand. Peggy Carter and the SSR had most of the source stuff, but some of your artwork was still around from your art school days and your freelance work. That started a a bit of a frenzy, really. It killed Grandma, but she took advantage of it and selectively sold a few of your drawings to pay for the building when it came up for sale. Because she had a secret.” 

By now they were on the fourth floor landing. The third floor, they’d rented out at one point, but now most of the apartments were being held for various kids of the family when they decided to move out of mom and dad’s but didn’t feel up to paying rent anywhere else. The second, where he lived, was mostly storage for the shop, pieces they decided to hold on to until current trends moved to be more favorable for sales. 

The fourth floor was off limits except for maintenance and cleaning. 

“I don’t think anyone knew this building as good as Grandma did those last few years she lived here. She had all sorts of little nooks and crannies she knew about.” 

“I lived here too,” Steve said softly, pausing to look down the hall at the end apartment. 

“Yeah, and that’s the other reason she wanted to buy the place. She needed to keep it safe from all the speculators in everything Captain America and Steven Grant Rogers.” 

“Jesus Becca, what did you do?” Steve said under his breath, eyes wide as he looked between the two doors.

Bucky laughed softly, then opened the door to apartment G. “Saved as much as she could.” 

#

Stepping inside the apartment was like going backwards through time. The worn carpet looked the same, as did the obviously antique furniture. No one lived here, his nose told him that, but Steve swore that if he listened hard enough, he’d hear Winnifred Proctor singing her hymns in the kitchen. 

Steve took two steps in, then immediately looked left to where Becca’s room would have been. It was silent, but on the wall was a wide bookcase that had not been there in their childhood. His feet moved without him having to think as he walked to the shelves, reaching for the first thing he recognized. It was a photo album. A very faded cover, with words in the familiar Irish, words he thought he’d never see again. 

Air wuffed out of him as the floor smacked him in the butt. It took him a second to realize he was sitting down. He blinked, holding the photo album to his chest, then looked up at a very amused man. He reminded him of someone. Of Becca.

Bucky, his name was Bucky. “What?”

The man took pity on him and came to sit down next to him. “I know it’s a shock. We’ve never told anyone about this. Grandmother broke into your apartment to steal all your stuff when they evicted you, after you never came back. She’s kept it all this time, hoping you would come back for it.” 

“Albam grianghraf mo mháthair.” He blinked, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs. “My mother…” 

A warm hand rubbed at his shoulder, then an arm pulled him in for a tender hug. He leaned into the warmth, blinking. There were tears on his eyelashes, and he reached up to rub them away. 

Time drifted for a while. He couldn’t catch a single coherent thought out of the thousand memories that drifted past. He just clung to the photo album and let himself drift. 

Eventually, he started piecing together reality again. The hard floor beneath him. The warm body beside him. The soothing hand rubbing his back. The steady shoulder under his head. The soft voice singing his mother’s lullaby, starting over again at the end. 

“Becca sang that, when my asthma acted up, to help me breath,” he murmured. 

The singer stopped, then replied softly, “She taught it to all of us as kids. She sang it to me, after I came back, whenever I had an anxiety attack to help me through it.” 

“Like the day on the elevator.” Bucky, this was Bucky, Steve remembered. Everything was slotting back into place. They were in Rebecca’s old apartment. She had rescued all of his mother’s things for him. She was an angel and she had raised a family of angels for him.

“Yeah. Like that day. I uh, I was going to apologize for running. Eventually.” 

Steve finally lifted up to look at Bucky’s face. There was sadness there, but also amusement and maybe a little sheepishness in the way he smiled and looked through his eyelashes at Steve.

“Nah, I get it. It’s annoying to be thankful to someone you want to hate.” Steve tried to laugh, but coughed out a sob instead, rubbing at his face.

Bucky pushed a wad of Kleenexes at him, smiling. “Something like that. Truce?” 

Steve took the tissues and cleaned himself up, nodding before murmuring. “Truce. Hopefully more. I’d like to come back, here? With permission, of course.” He took the time to look around the apartment, aching as he took it all in again.

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice was unbearably soft, making him look back at him. “She saved this for you. We saved this for you. It’s yours. Of course you can come back. I’ve got a key set up for you and everything.” 

Steve stared for a moment, then buried his face in his hands again, voice cracking as he gave into the tears once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah no Kleenex warning but it happened. *leaves several boxes if needed* I break the Steeb in almost every fic. 
> 
> The Gaelic phrase is bad google translate for "my mother's photo album."


	7. Seven

“Pardon me, Sir, but Captain Rogers has returned. However, he has asked me to convey his wishes to not be disturbed.” 

Clint looked up at the ceiling, then over at Natasha and Tony, frowning. “I swear, I did not do anything. I have been sitting here, behaving myself and healing all day. I did not do anything Bucky related. Have I, J?” 

“No, Agent Barton has been playing Mario Kart and training for your next tournament, all day.” Clint nodded and crossed his arms in satisfaction. 

“Is Steve at least healing okay?” Natasha asked, playing with her phone and not even looking up. 

“His leg seems to have healed satisfactorily. He is not using the cane anymore except when he remembers he has it. Passive scans show the usual rate of regeneration on record for the Captain.” 

“Thanks J.” Tony leaned back, twirling a clip around one finger. “Guess we’ll find out later.” But his face was thoughtful. Clint made a note to stay close to the genius. He’d come up with a unique way to shake the story loose. He’d been the one to match up his creation with the video of Bucky on the steps arguing in defense of Steve, after all. 

“Really think all of you should stay out of it,” Bruce said from the other side of the table. He didn’t even blink as the three of them blew raspberries at him. 

#

Steve sat in the spring sun, watching Bucky walk back towards the center, carrying empty buckets to the trash bin. It didn’t even make him jump when Becca smacked him with the plastic spade she was using to dig around in the dirt. “Where’s your head at now, Rogers?” 

“Trying to decide who I should talk to about ethics regarding family relations and dating,” He answered truthfully. “I mean, I have Jarvis and he’s got access to all the ethic and philosophy books ever written, but he gets so theoretical and dry.” Steve turned back to Becca, wincing a bit as he tried to keep from ducking again.

“You want to know if it’s okay to date my grandson,” she stated baldly. 

“Pretty much.” Steve sighed, then shrugged. “I’m older than you, if we look at the calendar. And we have so much history together.”

“But you’re also a young man.” She leaned back in her chair, watching him thoughtfully. “If you discount your time in the ice, you’re actually a year younger than him. Did you know that?” Becca smiled, reaching to ruffle his hair like she had done so many years ago.

“No, I didn’t know that.” He smiled at her, then laughed. “The day I met him, he was so calm and in control and so unimpressed with me. All I could do was stutter. He was wearing that big clunky mask but his eyes were so beautiful, I couldn’t even think straight.” He paused, then gave her a sour look. “I shoulda known then he was your family.” 

Becca laughed, shaking her head. “Well I can’t speak for the boy. I also can’t give you permission. He’s his own person. However,” Becca shook the spade in his face again, sprinkling dirt everywhere. “You break his heart, I will make your life miserable, just see that I don’t.” 

Steve held his hands up in the air and nodded solemnly. “You have my eternal promise that I will never do that intentionally.”

“Do what? I wanna watch! Especially if it gets you in trouble!” Bucky said with glee from behind him. 

“Duck me again after falling off a building like he did last week. Like I don’t have a TV. Stupid idiot.” Becca smacked his arm again with the spade, making Bucky cackle as he came around to help with his side of the garden.

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” Steve said, straightening up to give her a full salute. 

He didn’t even try to duck the chunk of soft dirt that smacked him in the face.

#

 

“Hey big brother. You doing okay?” Sarah asked, slipping up behind Bucky. He turned to smile at her, raising up his arm to let her slide in against him. He was out on the back porch of his parent’s place, taking a breather from the crowd. 

“I am. Just noisy in there. That’s all.” He dipped in to kiss the top of her hair. He could leave his mask off tonight. This was family. They understood. And it was her birthday.

“It’s all good.” She hugged him tight around the ribs, making them creak as he groaned. “Getting fragile, old man.” 

“Heh. My little sister’s trying to push me around, what can I say? Next thing I know, you’ll be calling dibs on my apartment!” 

“Oh no, I love my sweet modern apartment. You keep the creaky old rat trap. My guest.” She laughed, then turned to look back inside. Steve was talking with their parents, glancing out the door now and then. “I think you have an admirer.” 

He couldn’t help but feel his cheeks warm up a bit at that. “We’ve just been talking about stuff, that’s all. He doesn’t have that many friends outside the Avengers.” 

“Well it’s nice to hear you calling him Steve instead of the Patriotic Nitwit for a change.” 

Bucky snorted, shaking his head a little, but squeezed Sarah tighter. “Yeah I know. Grandma’s happier with me.” 

“Question is, Are you happier with you?” Sarah asked, resting her chin on his bicep, smiling up at him.

Bucky paused, looking up at the stars to think about it. “You know, I think I am.” He leaned in a little to whisper. “Wanna know a secret?” 

Sarah leaned in too, matching his whisper. “Always.” 

“Hawkeye’s hiding out on our roof. It must be a sniper thing.” 

The form he spotted shifted, groaning a little. “Aww man! I was gonna surprise you an everything!” A clatter of feet on shingles, then a thud as Clint landed on the deck beside them, dressed in black jeans and a dark gray hoodie, only a single bandaid stuck across his nose this time. “What gave me away?” 

Bucky shook his head and sighed. “Sneaking up on people with tendencies to carry grudges is probably not a smart thing.” 

“True but Schmartz is Tony and Bruce’s thing, not mine.” Clint paused, then smiled charmingly to bow a little at Sarah. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure yet.” 

Sarah laughed and stuck one hand out to shake his. “Dr. Sarah Barnes, Bucky’s sister.” 

“More Schmartz! Mind taking me in and introducing me to everyone so’s Cap doesn’t bounce me on my ear?” Clint bounced to a parade stance, one elbow out inviting Sarah to take it.

She laughed harder, then looked up at her brother. “Bucky?” she asked, watching his face carefully.

“Yeah, go on, I’m fine. I’ll follow in a minute.” 

Sarah watched his face for a second, then once she was satisfied, she nodded and took Clint’s elbow. She waved at him as the went in, grinning as everyone looked up. 

After the door slid closed behind them, it was chillier on the deck. And definitely lonelier. Bucky pulled his sweater around himself tighter, then looked up again as the door opened. 

This time it was Steve stepping out, carrying two cups of steaming cocoa. “You looked cold out here.” The larger of the two cups was held out to him and he took it with a grin.

“Thanks, this smells great.” He took a cautious sip, then coughed. “Woah.” 

“Yeah, pretty sure Becca doctored it up with something when I wasn’t looking.” Steve was smiling shyly, but there wasn’t any guilt or repentance to that look at all. 

“Taste yours. She always preferred whiskey in her cocoa.” Bucky took another sip and watched as Steve warily took a sip too, then coughed hard. “Yeah, she got the strong stuff this time.” 

“Makes me kinda regret that it doesn’t work on me,” Steve murmured, shifting closer to block the wind on Bucky’s left.

“Oh now, that? That finally makes me jealous of the serum. All those hangovers I could’ve avoided.” He groaned, pressing the cup to his cheek as Steve laughed. 

“There were days I would have given anything to drink to oblivion again.” The big shoulders shrugged, then Steve took another sip. “Or give me a bit of courage. That would be nice.” 

“Yeah? You’ve punched out aliens and live with the Black Widow. What do you need courage for?” Bucky chuckled at the flush creeping across his face at that, feeling the warmth from both the alcohol and the cocoa seep through him. 

“Well, I’m still trying to figure out the answer to an ethical question. Maybe you could help me with it?” He looked up and those blue eyes were wide open and locked on him.

“I’m not sure I’m qualified for anything around you,” Bucky said. This was harder. He had to be nice. Well, he did like the guy. But it was so much easier to be snarky and mean. Being nice meant you had to think about things. “But I can give it a shot.”

To his surprise, Steve blushed and dropped his eyes. The hand not holding his cup creeped up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m kinda hesitant to say anything really.” Then he looked up from underneath his eyelashes. Bucky realized exactly how Steve managed to be considered charismatic, and that single moment, he also realized he was in trouble. Because it was damned cute.

“Keep looking like that, Rogers, and I’ll think you’re up to something.” Bucky laughed and leaned back against the railing.

“Well maybe I am,” he said, straightening up a little bit more. Something in his look made Bucky’s stomach flutter. 

Bucky opened his mouth just as his mom stuck her head out the door. “Come back in, you two. It’s time to cut the cake!”

He gave Steve a helpless look, then followed her back in side. Part of him was grateful for the rescue. The other side wondered exactly what Steve was up to. 

Between the cake and presents and well wishes, they didn’t have another chance to talk. But Grandma was giving him some curious looks and he decided that meant she knew what Steve was up to. He resolved to talk to her first before he gave the Patriotic Bulldozer another chance to mow him down. 

#

Bucky sat quietly at the edge of the garden box, watching the kitten make a nuisance of herself as she tried to monopolize Becca’s hands instead of allowing his grandmother to transplant the tomato plants she’d ordered. 

“You are living up to your name, Sassafrassin. Why do I let you out here with us? Go pester Bucky! He’s not working at all!” Becca shooed the cat towards him. He smiled and tapped his fingers in the kitten’s line of sight to distract her. “You seem to have something on your mind,” she said, turning to flick dirt from her fingers at him. 

“Mmhmm. You and Steve are up to something, aren’t you?” He asked, still teasing the kitten, daring her to pounce on his fingertips. 

“Whatever gives you that idea?” Becca shook her head, then nudged the kitten towards him again. 

“Oh, just that stunt you pulled at Sarah’s birthday party. Trying to get me drunk and talking to Steve.” 

Becca snorted, shaking her head. “I didn’t put THAT much whiskey in your cocoa.” 

“Ha!” he retorted softly, grinning back at her. “So explain it to this poor lunk so I don’t have to keep guessing. What’s going on?” 

Becca shrugged diffidently, glancing at him over her shoulder as she dug the next hole. “Steve’s just trying to figure out how to date in the modern age. He’s pathetic still. Always has been.” 

Something sour started to bubble in Bucky’s stomach. “So, he was trying to get me to help him figure out the rules to dating in this century?” He snorted, shaking his head and catching the kitten to tickle her. “I’m guessing his team and that computer program could do more than I could.” 

He yelped when her cane caught him on the elbow, making him drop the kitten. He got scratched and hissed at before the little furball ran under Becca’s chair. “What was that for?” He asked, pouting and rubbing at his sore joint. 

“Still so obtuse.” Becca leaned down and knocked her knuckles loosely on the top of his head. “He wants to date you, silly boy.” 

The bubbling in his stomach froze into something worse, butterflies. “What?” 

Becca laughed and patted his cheek through the mask. “I’m going to enjoy watching the two of you figure this out.” 

“Grandmother, there are words I’m not allowed to say to you right now. But I’m thinking them real hard. Just so’s you know.” Bucky glared at her, then shook his head. 

She only cackled as she waved for one of the attendants to help her back inside.


	8. Eight

It’s just another Wednesday and it’s another rolling fight in the streets. This time it’s some assholes in military grade gear chasing through the streets with SHIELD and the Avengers in pursuit. Bucky just sighed and went through his security protocol. No one was in the shop or on the street, so he just locked up and headed to the roof with a package of Oreos and a thermos of coffee. He made sure his mask was securely in place and his Glock in its harness under his arm, even though he doubted he’ll need to use it. 

Hawkeye had already claimed the corner of the roof as his vantage point. Bucky whistled softly to let him know a friendly was there, staying still until he heard Clint’s laughter. “Bored downstairs?”

“Yeah, some assholes down on the street won’t let me keep regular business hours.” He waited a moment, then carefully moved over to sit down below Clint’s perch. He had his back to the parapet, watching across the buildings behind the archer’s back. “Want coffee?”

“Fuck yes, this is the best place in town now! Gimme!” Clint reached down a grasping hand between shots. Bucky laughed and played keep away for a moment, then handed up the thermos.

“Any idea how long this is gonna take?” He asked.

“Ugh, no clue. Hyd… these assholes are worse than bedbugs,” Clint said, managing to trade sips with quick shots. “They’re going around out of view though. Gonna have to jump spots in a sec.” 

“Figures,” Bucky muttered, then handed up the Oreos to trade for the coffee. “I was kinda looking forward to that Mario Kart tournament you mentioned.” 

“Oh, I am gonna get this done before then. That is so on!” Clint said, chortling to himself as he stuffed Oreos into various pockets. “Thanks for the snack!”

“Anytime.” Bucky started to ask whose team Steve would be on when he heard a soft whine of a weapon powering up. He popped his head up a little more, then saw the flicker of what he’d call a heat mirage, like he’d seen in the desert, right where he knew the bakery’s exhaust vent was supposed to be. “SHIT!” 

Clint turned just as Bucky leapt for him, sending both of them over the parapet and down the side of the building. They bounced off the railing of the fire escape, holding onto each other reflexively. Above them, the corner of the parapet disappeared in a shower of brick and mortar.

Their spin had completed to where they were side by side when they landed in the open dumpster, on top of the cardboard stock one of the stores had thrown out. 

Bucky gasped for air, reaching for his Glock even as he rolled onto his back. “Ugh, not again,” Clint muttered, sending them both into hysterical, breathless giggles. Pebbles pinged off of them, making Bucky glad he put the mask on before he went out.

Footsteps pounded on the pavement outside the dumpster. Bucky moved to cover the side door, but Clint gently laid a hand on his arm. “They’re SHIELD.” He tapped his ear com, but still pushed up to reset an arrow to the string. 

Bucky nodded, but he kept his gun out. People who could sneak up on Hawkeye were ones to be reckoned with. 

“Barton, are you in there?” a man’s voice rang out. “Cap’s having kittens right now and I have no idea why.” He sounded bored, yet amused. 

“Yeah Coulson, I’m here.” Clint relaxed the bow, then tapped on his ear com again. “No one’s dead here, relax Cap.” Bucky couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but Barton was snickering as he pushed up over the edge of the dumpster. 

Bucky followed slowly, eyeballing the people on the ground warily. He’d bumped into some of the SHIELD brass during a desert mission once, back when they were searching for Stark. All the time, that asshole was giving birth to Iron Man in a cave. Who knew? But the SHIELD jerks hadn’t been chill at all. This group was led by a guy in a suit, but with a bulletproof vest over it. He looked vaguely resigned to the fact that he was picking them up out of a dumpster. The rest had fanned out in a defensive cover pattern. Bucky approved.

“Any idea what that was up there?” Barton was asking. His hands were flying, working through his gear to take a quick inventory. “I didn’t see anything until Bucky did and jumped us off the roof.”

“No idea. It’s got some sort of cloaking capabilities. And gone now.” Coulson turned to him, and now he felt the weight of those calm yet expectant eyes. “How did you see it?” 

Bucky shrugged one shoulder, still holding his Glock. Mostly for comfort, he admitted to himself. “Heard a whine, something powering up. When I looked over, there was a blank spot on the roof where exhaust vents should’ve been.” 

“Interesting.” Coulson narrowed his eyes at Bucky, giving him a thorough once over and not missing the gun in his hand or the fact that he had a brick wall to his back as well as one side protected by the dumpster itself. He was about to retort that he was retired when the look faded to another annoyed look at Barton. “They need you two streets over. Climb up, we’ll give you a ride.”

Barton bounced the two steps over to the side of their hummer, catching a strap to hold onto before turning to Bucky. “Coming? Could always use someone to watch my…”

The start up whine was louder in the closed in alleyway. Bucky leapt for the docking bay, just as the dumpster disintegrated behind him, metal shrapnel flying everywhere. He grunted as his back to the brunt of his fall, but he was still able to twist around and start shooting. So had the SHIELD agents and Clint. 

Whatever arrows he still had on him, they weren’t just simple things. One had landed in the middle of whatever this thing was, shooting sparks and making the cloaking thing go crazy with technicolor burnouts. He’d followed that one with explosives, making the thing jump and bounce against the walls of the alley way, showing more brick and mortar everywhere. The dust helped define it though. It looked like a two man buggy, but with wings. A long barrel poked out of it’s nose and it was shifting. Bucky scrambled to get the door open, cursing at himself for locking the shop down so tightly. 

The Hummer bounced up into the air, throwing Clint and another agent off of it. That didn’t stop the Amazing Hawkeye. Even as Bucky fell backwards into shadow, the archer had run forward then dropped to his knees, sliding on his legs and back to go under the stupid thing as he shot off whatever trick arrows he had. 

Light flared out, right before the thing exploded. Bucky couldn’t see but he fought to get to his knees, fought to try get out the door to find Clint. Something cracked behind him, then dropped on his head to turn everything completely black. He could still hear, even as he reached out once more to try to push to his feet. A flare of light sparked through the darkness, and he thought he saw a red angel descend into the shattered alleyway. But the world tilted on him in a way he knew too well. Everything went squiggly, then his mind thankfully took it’s leave of the whole mess and dropped him into blessed unconsciousness. 

#

The sound of the monitors beeping as he woke up was disconcerting. For one, there were a lot of them, and two, he never remembered an army hospital bed being this comfortable. Bucky shifted and tried to lift his head, then groaned at the waves of disorientation that hit him. 

“Shhh hey, take it easy there. You’ve got a pretty nasty concussion, among other things,” a soft voice said. A very large and warm hand rested gently on his forehead, making him relax without knowing it. “That was a pretty big risk you ran out there.” 

“Mmfuh.. M’job,” Bucky managed to mumble. He tried to blink his eyes open again, then closed his eyes against all the light. “Where’m’I?” All his memories were jumbled. He couldn’t pin down a specific thing that caused him to land in the MASH unit again.

“You’re at Stark tower. Our private medical suite. We’re used to scraping Clint off the sidewalks,” the soft voice said, the words curling in amusement.

“Hey! Like we haven’t had to pry you up out of stuff,” a familiar voice said across the room. “Don’t listen to him Buck, Cap lies!” That voice wasn’t one from his unit, but he trusted the voice, so he smiled and took a deep breath before laughing. 

There were other voices trying to say something, but the laugh had become a cough. One that just wouldn’t stop. The smell of the air inside the oxygen mask changed, even as he tried to roll on his side to make the cough easier. Strong hands lifted him up instead and braced him, holding him steady even as he coughed into the plastic. Then one of those hands started to rub and press at his back, giving him something to brace against until the fit passed. 

Someone in white scrubs knelt in front of him, pulling the simple oxygen mask away to replace it with a nebulizer. He nodded and held it in place, closing his eyes to concentrate on just breathing. It took about five minutes, but the knot in his chest finally subsided. He kept his eyes closed though, until the taste of the medicine faded. The nurse was back, offering him the plain oxygen mask instead. He smiled weakly and let her exchange the masks, then groaned as he started to slump back.

Those same strong hands that had held him through the fit now gently rolled him back down against the pillow. He blinked, looking up into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He smiled, even as he realized he was floating on some sort of excellent medication. “Hey. I know you.” 

“Yeah, you do,” the voice replied. The skin around the eyes crinkled, and slowly the whole face came into view, revealing a wide smile.

“You’re the angel.” He raised his hand to try and poke at the thick shoulder below the smile. “Granma tol’ me somfin’ funny.” He really wanted to ask if it was true, he did. But the meds made things kinda blur together. 

“Tell me when you wake up. I’ll be right here, okay?” Fingers brushed his hair out of his eyes, relaxing him even more. 

“Mmkay.” Bucky tried to smile back. But he was warm and comfortable and he felt safe, so he slid back into the half dreams.

“Y’know Steve, I think he might like you now.”

“Shut up, Clint.” 

Bucky smiled at that. It just might be true. This angel had saved him. 

#

The next time he woke up, it was darker, but not completely blacked out. Bucky sat up slowly, looking around. There was a long form sprawled out in an uncomfortable looking chair beside his bed. The blond head was tipped back, letting Steve snore a little. He wasn’t loud though, just persistent.

On the other side of the small ward, Clint was easing out of bed and unplugging most of his own monitors. He put a finger to his lips, then shuffled over to fit the pulse rate monitor to one of Steve’s fingers. Bucky bit back a laugh, then took a closer look. 

Barton had bandaging over his right arm, from the shoulder down to the middle of his forearm. There was another across his left temple and a third on his right jaw. From the way he was shuffling, his legs were probably hurt too. “Clint,” he called softly, not wanting to wake Steve.

“Shhh.. I’m okay. Gonna go hole up in my room and get some sleep. It’s too bright down here.” That made sense, so Bucky just nodded. 

Clint shuffled back over, leaning on the bed even as he looked at Steve to deflect. “He was really worried about you.” 

Bucky flushed, turning to look too. He still found an unbandaged part of Clint to squeeze. “I know. Thank you guys, for being there.” 

“Ah now, you gotta get in trouble at least two more times,” Clint whispered, waiting for Bucky to look back at him. “I gotta even things up here. Can’t have you saving me all the time, y’know!” 

Bucky snorted softly, then let go to wave Clint off. “I stay out of trouble. You ARE trouble. Go get some sleep.” 

Clint grinned and winked, then snuffled out of the ward with his clothes held to his chest, making practically no noise in the scrub pants he wore.

Steve snorted in his sleep, shifting a bit before starting to snore louder. Bucky counted to ten in Arabic, his slowest language, then picked up the empty cup beside his bed to toss into Steve’s lap. He had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing as Steve twitched and jumped to sit straight up, snorting and wheezing out a soft shout. 

He came around pretty quickly though. Steve picked up the cup and looked at Bucky in bewilderment, then held up his finger with the monitor on it. Then he wrinkled his nose and looked over at Clint’s empty bed. “He’s good.” 

Bucky laughed. “I barely caught him. He’s only got a three minute head start.” 

“Oh, I’m not chasing him,” Steve said, turning off the machine off before taking the finger off. “That’s Natasha’s job. Jarvis?” he asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m not sure what’s going on. My sensors say that Agent Barton is still in the bed in front of you. I will, of course, notify Agent Romanoff. She had expected something like this.” 

“Oh, he’s very good,” Bucky said, laughing softly. Steve grinned with him, eyes sparkling. Then Bucky realized what was missing, his hands flying up to his face to check. “No mask?” 

Steve shook his head. “This ward is it’s own clean room. We run into the muck too often not to have a quarantine spot.” 

“Ah, okay.” He murmured, leaning back against the pillows again. “I’m assuming they have my medical records?” 

Even in the low light, Bucky could see the blush across the tops of Steve’s cheeks. “Yeah. Since Tony’s been working on that mask for you, he says that gave him clearance to pull all your records.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, he got my service records too.” He paused, waiting for the anger to rise, but found a soft surprise that they would bother.

“Yeah. He’s uhm.. He was impressed.” Steve left it at that, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Oh I bet. I know what my rating was.” Bucky wrinkled his nose, curling his hands in his lap to keep from fidgeting with the blanket over him. “So, how long you gonna keep me in here?”

“Doctor Singh wants to check you over in the morning, then we’ll see. I’ll help you pull a Barton if I need to,” Steve promised.

“Captain, please do not. I have enough trouble with Agents Barton and Romanoff when they do that,” Jarvis interjected. 

Bucky chuckled at that, then harder at the stubborn look on Steve’s face. “Oh, so that’s the face grandma always told me about. The ‘I do what I want’ face.”

Steve started to protest, then pantomimed a conversation with himself about the pros and cons of the statement. It was too much, and Bucky began to laugh harder. Steve quit his pantomime, then reached up to squeeze Bucky’s ankle. “You sound a lot better now.” 

“Yeah, you’re not so bad yourself. ‘Course, you might like me better with the drugs on high. Thought you were an angel, out there on the street, flying into the fight.” 

Steve paused, then groaned and dropped his head to the bed. Bucky frowned, then tugged at his hair. “What?” 

The answer was muffled, but clear. “That was Tony!” 

“Oh. Guess that explains why it was a red angel.” Steve’s shoulders shook, so Bucky leaned forward to rub at them. “But he wasn’t the one who was here when I woke up, was he?” 

Steve peeked up over his arm. “Your grandmother would murder me if I let anything else happen to you, and I did.” 

Bucky smiled, reaching up to tug at the blond hair again. “She’s got her own opinion about stuff. You did tell everyone where I was, didn’t you?” 

Steve jerked up at that, almost indignant. “Of course!” 

Bucky softened his smile a little. “Good. Thank you. I uh, I tend to pull a Barton now and then, myself.” 

“Not today though,” Steve asked quietly, quirking an eyebrow up.

“No, not today.” Bucky smiled, reaching to touch his knuckles against Steve’s cheek. “I’m good.” 

To his surprise, Steve leaned into the touch. His skin was warm beneath the prick of his stubble. “Grandma said you wanted to try dating,” He blurted without realizing. 

Steve froze, then sat up. Bucky pouted at that, until he realized that Steve had wrapped his hand up in both of his big warm paws. “I would, if that’s okay with you.” That soft soft voice was back again. So were the drugs, he realized.

“Ask me again next week.” He squeezed the fingers laced around his gently. “Once these magnificent drugs of yours are out of my system.” 

Steve laughed, but the light in his eyes shone brighter than Bucky had ever seen before. 

#

Off duty Avengers were absolute dorks, Bucky realized. Not long after he was liberated from the med ward, he was deposited into the communal break room. For observing purposes, or so Barton said. 

So far he’d been doing the observing. Barton was busy arguing with anyone who’d listen and sneaking pizza over to Bucky. Romanoff seemed fine just sitting on the edge watching everything. Tony and Bruce were arguing over some arcane science thing. Only Thor and Steve were missing, and Bucky realized that made him a little disappointed. He still hadn’t met Thor officially, yet.

And Steve… well that little nest of nerves would just keep wiggling until he did see him. 

To distract himself, he dug his phone out to text to Becca.  


> _Once upon a time, I would have said you were insane to mention me and these idiots in the same room._
> 
> _Once upon a time, I remember someone hanging on gramma’s every word when she was telling Steve stories,_ came the reply.

Bucky snorted and shook his head, about to answer when the elevator chimed and revealed Steve carrying a small vase with a single lily. It was a beautiful dark purple in the center, going lighter at the tips of the petals. It outshone the blush on Steve’s cheeks only minutely, and not at all when Stark saw him. “There you are! Look who we liberated for you!” 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Steve said with a wince, then he lifted up the flower. “Jarvis said this wasn’t one of your allergens?” 

Bucky could feel his face heating up at that, and he shifted in the chair he’d been deposited in. He wished he could hide the pizza crusts, focusing on them instead of Clint’s wide smirk in the background. “No, that should be good. It’s trees that get me the worst.” 

“Great.” Steve made his way over, sitting the flower vase on the coffee table in front of Bucky. “How are you feeling?” 

The lily was missing the stamens in the center of it. Someone had obviously carefully clipped them out. To avoid the pollen at all costs? Only Steve would think of doing that. 

Tears pricked at the corner of Bucky’s eyes, making him blink. “To be honest, I’m a little underwhelmed.” He managed a small wink to stall out the collapse of Steve’s hopeful look halfway through. 

“Well, you did just eat Barton’s pizza,” Tony snarked behind them.

“Is it because Thor’s not here? Cause there’s no way to be under- anything when Thor’s around.” Natasha murmured.

“Me. I could be under him,” Clint popped off to make everyone groan.

“What’s missing, Bucky?” Steve finally asked.

“I’ve been up here for almost two hours and no one has mentioned the Mario Karts tournament those assholes so rudely delayed.” He kept his eyes on Steve’s face as he pouted hard, wibbling his bottom lip a bit. 

Steve laughed, then moved to sit down next to Bucky. Thick fingers lightly tapped his thigh, even as Steve yelled over the other four, “I call dibs on Bucky for my teammate!” 

Bucky nodded, then moved his fingers over to tap at Steve’s thigh in agreement. 

EPILOGUE

Four Months Later

 

Rich smells of pasta, salmon, spices, and fruit hit Bucky in the face the moment Jarvis opened the door to Steve’s floor. He grinned, loving that he could smell the nuances now. Stark called the current mask Mark 31, but Bucky just called it amazing. The filters had been upgraded to the point the DEA wanted the patent to make new drug sniffing tools. “Boy, that would be so hypocritical of me to do, so no,” Tony had said, then gone back to tinkering.

Bucky shook his head at the memory, then rounded the corner into the kitchen. Jarvis hadn’t announced him, so Steve’s back was to him while he flipped pasta around in a pan. “Hey you,” Bucky said softly, sliding his hand over Steve’s shoulder to squeeze gently.

He was rewarded with a soft, shy but happy smile, then a beefy arm swept around his waist to pull him in. “That the new mask?” Steve asked, dipping to nuzzle against his cheek. 

“Uh-huh. Could smell what you were making the moment I entered. But I don’t want it now.” Bucky reached up to pull it free, then tiptoed to kiss Steve softly. “Thanks for lunch.” 

“Any time. Got the afternoon off?” Steve started sweeping food onto plates, one nearly twice as big as the other. 

“Yup, Becca’s watching the shop today.” Bucky moved around him, picking up everything else that didn’t fit in Steve’s big hands. A delicious shiver went up his spine when he thought about what else fit in those hands. Mainly, him. 

“Good, cause I have a proposition for you,” he said, putting plates on a table set for two. “How you feel about running a prank with me on Barton?” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he sat down. “What kind of prank?” 

“Oh, something really good.” Steve took a small drink from his protein shake, eyes sparking over the rim. “Found out something about that old carnie.” 

Bucky paused, fork halfway to his mouth before he put it down. “He set us up, didn’t he?” Steve nodded slowly, taking another drink while he let Bucky think it through. “How?” 

“Been looking into that. Tony said something the other day.” 

“That line about Clint winning again and that just wasn’t right?” Bucky finished for him, finally taking a bite. The cheese and pepper noodles nearly knocked him back in his seat. “Fuck, Steve, you got this just perfect now.” 

Steve flushed and squirmed. Bucky just loved how bashful he turned when he got compliments. “Thanks. But yeah… I wanna know what he was thinking.” 

He narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. “He’s not a lightweight drunk, is he?” 

Steve shook his head slowly. “I’ve seen him keep up with Natasha and Thor.” 

Bucky ran a couple quick scenarios in his head, then started laughing. “Steve, how are we gonna prank a SPY?” 

“Same way he set us up, open faced chicanery. Was gonna run a few scenarios past you this afternoon.” The smirk on Steve’s face was deliciously impish. For a moment, Bucky thought maybe he was seeing the Steve his grandmother grew up with.

Then the jerk licked his lips and wiggled his eyebrows. “And maybe run a few more things past you.” 

Bucky pointed his fork at him, laughing. “Start with the tongue, then we’ll see where we end up.”

The troll sat up straight and actually saluted at him. “Sir, yes sir!” 

All he could do was roll his eyes and throw a roll at Steve. Then a second one when the first one was caught and shoved inside his mouth between laughs. “You’re such an idiot, Steve,” Bucky sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot now.” 

“God help me, but I think you are. Well damn.” He laughed, thinking about that, then smiled. “I think I’m good with that.” 

The smile that broke across Steve’s face was the brightest thing he’d seen in years. Yeah, he could get used to this real easy. He said a quick apology to his grandmother, then scooted his chair closer to his boyfriend. This year just kept getting better every day. With his own Patriotic Nitwit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done, with a happy ever after! As long as your name isn't Clint Barton, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: I did not go for the usual arm injury that modern Buckies sometimes get. Instead, I drew on my own family history. My uncle came back from his service with COPD and other complications. And from my research, service people who have spent multiple tours in either Iraq or Afghanistan, or both, are even more susceptible to developing lung problems. Just like rescue folk after 9/11. No moral to this, just bringing awareness.
> 
> Edit 4.29.19. LOVLIES! Some of you mentioned that you'd love to have a filtration mask like Bucky's. Well, we don't have Tony Stark making them yet, but I did find https://rzmask.com! I was watching a great video of making a window catio and they were sponsored by this company. It's rated for construction work AND ALLERGENS. So yeah.. posting for those who might be interested after reading this story. I know.. $$$ rated. But still... they're out there?


End file.
